Flight Forwards
by adele4
Summary: Post-BC, eventual Malik Ishtar x Yami Bakura x Ryou Bakura. The Ishtars ask Yuugi for help after Malik is kidnapped by someone who demands the millennium rod as a ransom.
1. Chapter 1

A few notes (if you hate reading author's notes, the underlined bits should contain the really important bits):

- This is set after Battle City (and goes into a different direction from there on, obviously).

- I'll be following the anime timeline for the most part, with one exception: I'll be referring the group's first confrontation with the ring spirit and the resulting events as it happened in the manga (with the Monster World game and Bakura eventually putting the ring back on in Duellist Kingdom); from there on, I'll follow the anime again.  
(I would have liked to pretend both card game and monster world fight happened, because I will refer to the whole "people being stuck inside their favourite card"-thing, but that would make Yuugi and his friends look spectacularly stupid for going along with Yami Bakura's "let's compare ourselves to cards"-ploy; I'll be assuming that they know about the possibility though.)  
I'll be making clear which version happened within the story as well anyway, so, just a heads-up.

- Just a quick reminder, after BC the millennium items are distributed as follows:  
Yuugi: puzzle, necklace, rod, ring  
Bakura: eye  
Shadi: scales, key

- Pairing, or, in this case, threesome (because I am, after all, a hopeless shipper): Yami Bakura x Bakura Ryou x Malik. Neither of them shows up in this chapter, mind. Unless one of them is someone else in disguise!!!  
... but they're not.  
Also, some hints at others, but nothing too serious.

- The Japanese school year doesn't end with summer, but apparently there's still a pretty long summer break, so it all works out.

- Title is derived from the German expression "Flucht nach vorne".

Disclaimer: I don't own yuugiou, I don't own the characters, this is all just for the entertainment and I make no profit with it.

* * *

Chapter One

_(In which Yuugi and his friends arrive in Egypt)_

"Come in," Isis said softly, as she held the door open for them; worry was clearly written over her usually stoic face, and she looked around in the still scalding hot and empty street as if she was expecting to be attacked; it was late in the afternoon, and there was no-one in sight; it even looked peaceful, Anzu thought.

They entered in silence, Yuugi first, and climbed the stairs to the third floor, where they waited for Isis to take the lead again, and open the right door.

"Are you sure you have room for all of us?" Anzu asked in a whisper, trying not to sound too apprehensive; Isis had paid for two of their flight tickets, but they'd had to get the other two themselves, they hardly had the money for a longer stay in a hotel, and they had left in too much haste to look into cheaper alternatives.

Isis nodded; when she put the key into the lock, someone opened the door from the inside, making all of them jump; Rishid stood back against the wall of the corridor to let them enter, and Isis lead them to a large living room; there was a low table in the centre of it; ancient looking decorations, stone and clay statues, and likenesses of ancient carvings were placed on the walls; the room looked barely lived in, orderly and clean.

They sat down, Yuugi, Honda and Jounouchi cramped together on the sofa, Anzu and Isis on the chairs; Rishid disappeared in the adjacent kitchen and came back with a tablet with drinks, and then a second one with some cold food, like for a dinner party, and stood behind Isis' chair. There was a deep frown on his forehead.

All of it in ghostly silence. The absence of the third inhabitant of the apartment was almost palpable.

When Isis had called him less than a week ago and told him that Malik had disappeared and that they needed his and the pharaoh's help, Yuugi had immediately agreed to come, without any further information; he'd tried to dissuade his friends from coming with him – a trip to Egypt was expensive – but none of them had accepted to let him go alone, and the puzzle spirit, whose concern for the more trivial problems of daily life in the modern world was rather dim, had not been a great help. It had been hard enough for them to convince Jounouchi that they could pay for the tickets together.

At least, the call had come during the summer break: Yuugi wasn't sure his grandfather could cover for him many more times, and Honda and Anzu didn't even have a relative who was in the secret, or even just aware of the great importance of attending Duel Monster tournaments.

Jounouchi and Honda's good mood seemed to be perfectly restored by the prospect of food that wasn't aeroplane food; and even before he had finished one of the snacks himself, Yuugi was covered in bread crumbs

"Are you going to tell us what happened and how we can help you now, Isis?" Yuugi asked after a moment.

The former seer nodded.

"About a week ago –"

"Nine days," Rishid added.

"Malik didn't come home in the evening; we weren't too worried at first, even when he stayed away another whole day." She tried to repress a sigh. "It's not the first time he disappeared several days without warning us...

We thought about contacting the police on the third day – he's been gone longer before, but this time he left his motorbike..."

"Did you?"

Isis shook her head.

"I got a note in my office, demanding a ransom and warning me about calling the police –"

"You might have to do so anyway!" Anzu chimed in; "they –"

"They didn't just ask for money," Rishid interrupted. "They want the millennium rod."

"The millennium rod?" It was Yuugi's voice, only not, deeper and harsher and darker; Anzu could not help staring at her childhood friend, as often when the switch caught her off guard. "We can't give it to anyone."

His hands instinctively tightened on the case he was holding on his lap and had not left in the anteroom with their other luggage, and in which they were keeping their millennium items and the three god cards.

_Other me!_ Yuugi protested. _If it is the only way to save Malik we have to give it away!_

_I know. But i__t can't be_, his other answered, and did not protest as Yuugi took back control to apologise for the harsh answer.

"But," Jounouchi began carefully, before Isis or Rishid could say anything, "he's right, isn't he? That thing is dangerous. We can _find_ Malik!"

"How are you supposed to give it to them?" Anzu asked.

"We don't know yet – there will be further instructions. We don't know where the note came from either..."

"How can they even know you had the rod?" Jounouchi asked. "How many people are there who know about the items?"

"Anyone could have seen him use it at Battle City," Honda pointed out; "or it could be someone from his old gang getting back on him..."

He didn't say "his army of mind-slaves", even thought the expression had been on the tip of his tongue, because that would have sounded both silly and maybe rude to Isis and Rishid. It was a good guess, he thought: _they_ had forgiven Malik for what he had done, but he wouldn't be surprised if a few people were still angry at him...

"Do you have any idea who it could be, and how they could know about the items?" Yuugi asked softly.

"No." Isis paused for a moment. "Of course," she continued, with a brief side glance at Rishid, "the pharaoh is right: giving up the rod is dangerous, and we are certainly not asking you to –"

"We don't need to give it up," the other Yuugi interrupted, and crossed his arms. "The items can only be won or given, not stolen or obtained through blackmail. We meet this person and confront them; if they want the rod, they cannot refuse to duel for it."

Isis seemed relieved.

"We were also hoping that if you have to give up the rod, we might still track them with the ring, if you know how to use it..."

There was a silence as the four friends exchanged uneasy glances.

"I'm sorry but – that won't be possible," Yuugi eventually said.

"Why?"

"Because the ring has been stolen."

A stunned silence followed that revelation; Yuugi, ashamed, searched his friends' eyes for comfort: he had been supposed to guard the items. He didn't know why, but they too were important for his other: if they didn't find it again, and it was because of him...

_It__'s not your fault!_ the spirit fiercely snapped in his head, almost angry.

With only a few syllables behind, Anzu said exactly the same, aloud; Yuugi grinned.

"Yeah," Jounouchi added, catching on, while Honda just nodded confidently, thought they had no idea whether Yuugi could have done anything, as their friend had not yet told them how the ring had been lost, and after Anzu had smacked both of them over the head, they had decided to leave this upsetting subject for later.

"What happened?" Isis asked curiously; she didn't look reproachful either; if anything, she sounded as if she was holding an impersonal interest in what was happening to the items.

"I don't _know_," Yuugi said slowly; "it just, disappeared, two weeks ago. Overnight, or in the morning. I don't know how; no-one seems to have broken in, nothing else disappeared..."

Another silence, but this one uncomfortable, dragging out way too long, and fragile, and Honda's voice sounded painfully harsh when he finally broke it:

"Do any of you know where Bakura is?"

This time, no-one met anyone's eyes.

_I thought we should have investigated further, _Yami murmured to his partner.

_But how? B__reak into his apartment? We can't do that. We couldn't have closed it again, and why would he have left traces?_

_I wasn't criticising _you_, aibou. I should have tried..._

_Don't blame yourself__._

_I'm sorry. I shouldn't be adding to your –_

"He said he was going on a summer camp over the holidays," Anzu finally remembered with a frown.

"A summer camp?" Honda repeated, unbelieving. "_Bakura?_"

"It's not like it's impossible..."

"But it _can't_ be that freak?" Jounouchi asked, not as much confident as hoping for confirmation that this was a ridiculous idea. "He was sent to the shadow realms by Malik's dark side!"

"So were you and Mai..." Yuugi said carefully. "And Bakura-kun himself."

He glanced up at Isis and Rishid for help.

"And the ring seems to be getting back to him on its own..." Honda added darkly.

"I don't think it's impossible," Isis agreed. "I'm afraid we know very little about the five that were not left with us..."

"But it was stolen when we still had school!" Jounouchi protested. "We saw Bakura afterwards. We would have noticed if _he_ was there..." He looked at the others for confirmation. "Right?"

Honda still had his grim expression in place. Yuugi twisted his hands on his lap nervously.

"So... No-one knows where exactly he is?"

Everybody shook their head; then Jounouchi spoke up, uncharacteristically cautious:

"I think – well, maybe..." He coughed. "Do any of you know if there's one of these conventions again? About the occult and... stuff like that...?"

Anzu blinked at him.

"He would have told us if that's where he's going."

"Well... maybe... You see, last time I sort of... freaked out at him...?"

Anzu narrowed her eyes at him.

"What did you do?"

"I just – look, I'm sorry, but – c'mon, it's weird. You'd think he's had enough of spirits and things like that. I didn't mean to upset him..."

"But you did," Honda concluded very diplomatically.

"I guess..." Jounouchi answered lamely, and cringed under Anzu's severe gaze. "I'm sorry..."

"Even if that's why he didn't tell us, it's not all your fault," Yuugi said gently. "Bakura always liked to keep to himself."

_The thief always liked to keep to himself_, Yami argued silently.

_You didn__'t know Bakura before he had the ring._

_Neither did you._

"He's the son of the director of Domino Museum?" Isis interrupted. "Maybe I can find out where his father is, and how to join him?"

"That would be great!"

Yuugi beamed at her. Isis stood briskly and left the room. Rishid looked after her with concern.

"But the kidnapper only asked for the rod..." Honda eventually broke the silence. "They must have thought you – " here he motioned Rishid with his head. "- still have it. And Bakura knows we have the necklace and the puzzle as well...?"

"What if the same person who's after the ring – " Anzu began worriedly, then interrupted herself. " – no, you kept the items together, they could just have taken the rod..."

"And everyone who knows anything about the items knows about the puzzle..."

"And Kaiba broadcasted the Battle City duels, they might have seen any of the items there."

"Kaiba!" Anzu said briskly, in a loud, lively voice that made Yuugi jump next to her. "He could help us find out where the call came from!"

* * *

_(end of chapter one.)_

_Confusing? Boring? Awesome? Horrible? Something in-between? __Glaring mistakes I missed? _

_Any comments would be appreciated__! ;)_

_The next chapter, unsurprisingly, is the one in which Seto Kaiba gets contacted. He's not happy about it._


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you very, very much for the reviews! \o/

See chapter 1 for disclaimer.

* * *

Chapter Two

_(In which Kaiba is contacted, and being one of the normal people is __stressful.)_

"Kaiba-kun? Yes, it's me. I'm sorry to bother you this late in the evening, but I really need your help with something. Oh, no, I'm sorry, I didn't think of the – did I wake you – oh, right."

The others came closer, surrounded Yuugi while he explained what had happened and what they needed from him; Jounouchi reached forward to push a button that would enable all of them to hear what Kaiba was answering:

"... _break_ into the database," Kaiba's angry voice was coming from the phone, "find your information, and all of it until tomorrow morning. You must be crazy."

"I'm s – " Yuugi began, Jounouchi angrily snatched the receiver from him and screamed into it:

"Ishizu and Rishid have lost their brother you selfish bastard! How would you feel if –"

There was a 'click', and then the long uninterrupted sound from a dead line. Jounouchi stared at the receiver in his hand as if he'd never seen one before.

"He hung up on me!"

"Maybe you should let Yuugi deal with this," Honda suggested.

"Sorry," Jounouchi muttered, letting his arm fall down, and Anzu had to take the receiver from his hand to replace it were it belonged, cutting off the sound.

"Let me speak to him," Yuugi – the other Yuugi, this time – demanded. "Alone."

"Are you sure he'll even take your call?"

Yami just smirked.

"Leave it to me."

* * *

The other three returned to the living room with Rishid, where Jounouchi absently began to munch on the last snack. Isis was still absent; she could be heard talking on her cell-phone through the door, but they couldn't make out her words.

"What if we have to give them the rod?" Jounouchi asked, glancing at Anzu who was now sitting next to him: she too had experienced its power first-hand.

And she seemed to understand, because she took his hand and squeezed it, if in search for comfort or to give it, Jounouchi couldn't tell. He suddenly missed his sister.

"Yuugi would get it back," Anzu said confidently.

"Yeah," Jounouchi agreed, and looked up to cast Rishid, still standing behind a chair motionlessly, a smile. "We'll get him back," he said. "Yuugi always wins."

As if to give his words more weight, Yuugi appeared in the doorway at that exact moment, and gave them a quick nod.

"He's calling back as soon as he has something," he explained, and let himself fall into the closest empty chair. Yuugi again, Anzu noted.

"How did you manage that?" Jounouchi asked.

Yuugi drew a comical face.

"He's organising a tournament in America this year."

Anzu groaned. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jounouchi couldn't help grinning.

"He never lets go, does he?"

Yuugi shook his head.

"He's not participating – and he said something about us only being in the last duel." He shrugged. "We agreed."

"Oh," said Jounouchi, only now realising that the plural was for Yuugi and the puzzle spirit. "I'll be there too!" he added.

Yuugi gave a court nod.

"Kaiba said you'd be invited, actually."

There was a pause. Honda coughed loudly.

"Seriously?" Jounouchi asked, unbelieving. Yuugi grinned and nodded, and decided not to mention the comment about duelling monkeys the invitation had come with. "Whoa, _finally_!"

"What did you bribe him with for _that?_" Honda asked, in the same astonished voice Jounouchi had used a few moments earlier when learning that Kaiba was willing to help.

Isis' arrival cut the following argument short; the four of them turned to her guiltily, their good spirits vanishing again, though there was nothing accusing in the woman's attitude.

"I couldn't reach anyone this late," she admitted, in her usual even voice. "But I have a number where I should be able to reach Bakura. I'll try again later."

Her tone bore no argument, so the others just nodded; Rishid quickly briefed her on the latest progress. She seemed to be the only one who wasn't surprised by Kaiba's offer to help.

"There's no reason for you to wait this whole time," she just said when Rishid finished. "You should go to bed. Anzu, you can sleep in my room; you others can have Malik's."

The three boys exchanged looks – there was something insensitive about accepting to getting assigned the missing person' room, but it was only practical, and Isis looked undisturbed.

"I need to sleep," Anzu declared decidedly, and gave the other three a pointed look before standing up. "Thank you, Isis."

The other woman smiled at her.

* * *

In her dream, Anzu was running though a maze; everything was dark, but from time to time, familiar shapes flashed up, frequently visited corners of Domino, in complete disorder; she knew she was looking for something, no, someone, Yuugi, or was it his other? Then she saw a flash of his tri-coloured hair behind a chew-gum dispenser, and wanted to run, but her body had stopped obeying her orders: instead of running after her friend, she turned around a corner, and found herself in a brightly lighted street, in the middle of a crowd. She tried to turn away, something about it frightened her, but despite this she made one step forward after the other, in an automated way, and slowly, every single member of the crowd turned to look at her: on each of their foreheads, they had the eye of Ra and then – without touching her, they began to tug at her, wrestling for control of her mind, she was jerked back and forth and could do nothing to stop them, and a giant penguin boxed his way through the crowd into her direction and screamed: "No, she's mine!" and she couldn't step away from his grabby hands...

She woke up with a start.

The room she was in was dark, but still she noticed that her surroundings were unfamiliar; Isis' room, she remembered, rubbing her eyes, and switched on a lamp on the bedside table; there was the muffled sound of a phone ringing, then Isis' voice, with interruptions, though too quiet for her to understand anything; then Rishid, and Isis again.

She took a look at her watch: she hadn't slept for too long, a few hours; the phone had woken her up.

When she made her way back to the living room, Yuugi and Rishid were already there, and Yuugi was quickly gulfing down a sandwich, and somehow managing to look solemn despite of that.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"They called," Isis said, having just entered the room from behind her.

"No-one we... know?" Anzu asked cautiously, even as she let herself fall onto the couch next to Yuugi.

"I don't think so," he said.

"The voice sounded like it was mechanically altered," Rishid added, in a blank voice.

Anzu exchanged a look with her friend.

"I'll go wake the others," she said, standing up. "Did you call Kaiba to –"

"No!" Yuugi stopped her, and she turned, confused. "I mean, yes, we did, but don't wake them. We're leaving right now."

He stood up.

"Then –"

"Just Rishid and me," Yuugi said, looking at her pleadingly. "They said they want Rishid to bring the rod, you can't come."

"But –"

"Please, Anzu. I'm not alone, you know that," he added.

Anzu bit her lips; she found that this, letting him leave alone into danger, was harder on her than the contrary.

Their argument was cut short when the phone rang once again; they all turned to Isis as she picked it up, and they could hear an impatient voice on the other end interrupt her before she had even finished her greeting.

"It's Seto Kaiba," she said, turning towards Yuugi and holding out the phone to him. "He says it's important," she added, that bit for Rishid, who stood by the door, completely motionless, but who, Anzu realised, might just be hiding his impatience well; she was debating whether she should go wake Jounouchi and Honda anyway while Yuugi was occupied – together, they could convince him to let them come, and help him – when her attention was brought back to her friend.

"Are you sure?" Yuugi was saying in his soft voice, and again, they could hear Kaiba's angry voice, though without being able to make out the words. "No, that's not – yes, he wanted my millennium puzzle, but he promised – I can't think of any – I – yes, thank you, but I have to leave now, or they might do something to Malik – can you tell Isis?"

He let the phone sink, turned back to them, and smiled weakly.

"He'll call back," he told Isis.

"What did he want?"

"He found out where the call just now came from."

Anzu stared; she knew little about databases of phone-numbers and -calls or hacking, but this was absurdly fast...

"Already? How's that possible?"

"He recognised the number. The call came from Duellist Kingdom."

"That doesn't – Pegasus?"

Yuugi shrugged.

"I don't know." He glanced up at Rishid, who gave an imperceptible nod. "I have to leave now."

"I'm coming," Anzu declared.

"No. Look, _no_ – Rishid is supposed to go alone, every other person will only make it worse."

Anzu sighed, because she knew what he wasn't saying: that his other would be able to protect him, but she would only be someone more to protect, and she should feel insulted, only she didn't want to add to the pressure he was already under.

"All right," she said weakly, and went to hug him; when she stepped back, Yuugi was blushing furiously, and dashed to the door as soon as she let go.

Anzu slumped into the nearest chair when they door closed; she wasn't looking forward to explaining to Jounouchi and Honda why she had let Yuugi leave without them.

"I managed to reach your friend's father," Isis said, even as she sat down on the sofa; Anzu glanced up at her. "But he was no help – he says his son is spending the vacation on a tour of interesting sites back home. He doesn't have a way to reach him. But Bakura called him a few days ago."

"Thank you." Anzu nodded. This didn't prove anything: if the spirit was back, he had fooled them, he could fool Bakura's father over the phone as well; and he might only have changed his plans, but the fact that he might have lied to them about his vacation was not reassuring.

"They should be back in three hours," Isis added gently. "Assuming they're there for one hour."

Anzu followed her gaze to the clock above the kitchen door, and waited.

* * *

_(end of chapter two.)_

_Yeah, that was Yami bribing Kaiba with his participation on his tournament. It _would _work!_

_Again, all comments are greatly appreciated!_


	3. Chapter 3

_See chapter one for disclaimer._

_Many thanks for the comments! :)_

_

* * *

  
_

Chapter Three

_(In which __Yami and Yuugi stand around in the rain and things get a bit weird.)_

The weather seemed to agree with their mood – or to side with their opponents –, as the sky had become dark and cloudy; it wasn't raining yet, but it could start any moment. Street-lights were rare, and it was so dark that you could hardly see your hand in front of your own eyes.

However, both Yami and Rishid were secure enough in walking in darkness; Yuugi had unhappily given up control when Yami had pleaded with him to, certain that they were in serious danger.

They stopped in front of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Yami was oddly reminded of Domino; pre Duellist Kingdom Domino, from before Yuugi had become aware of him. He winced inwardly. Looking back at it now, it hadn't really been a good time.

"It's here," Rishid said with absolute confidence. Yami nodded.

"Let's go inside," he said, walking towards the building before he even knew where there was an entrance. Rishid laid a hand on his shoulder to hold him back.

"Pharaoh..." Yami was a bit surprised to make out both embarrassment and fear in the man's tone. "They asked for me to come alone."

He said nothing more, and Yami realised that even thought he believed it would be safer for Malik if they followed instructions, he was leaving the final decision to him.

_But I was supposed to challenge them..._

_Rishid is a strong duellist_, his partner answered silently. _We can't put Malik in danger._

"I know," Yami murmured. "But..."

_There will be another way__, _Yuugi assured him.

Yami pressed his lips together. He should have expected this.

"Fine. Go inside. I'll wait here."

Rishid nodded.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

He walked to the closest door to the warehouse, and gave it a light push: it screeched and flew opened; Yami peered after the man as he walked inside, but he couldn't make out anything. Then a dark voice said: "close the door", and he was outside alone.

Not fully alone, of course. He resisted the urge to meet his aibou inside the maze of his soulroom. He could not, at a time like this, leave their body so vulnerable.

"How long should we wait?" he asked silently. It was beginning to rain.

"I don't know," Yuugi replied; Yami could hear him count in the back of his mind. They should have taken a watch – not that it would really have helped.

* * *

Yuugi had reached six hundred and twelve, it was pouring with rain, and Yami was getting decidedly impatient, when the door finally opened; Yami braced himself: they hadn't heard a single sound from inside. The walls might be tick, and the sound of the water on the metal roof might drown some of the sounds, but he still believed that if there had been a fight, they would have heard.

Rishid stepped outside, and closed the door behind himself. The rod wasn't in his hand anymore. He looked at him, a strange, sad look in his eyes; Yami quickly walked up to him.

"Where's Malik?" he asked, feeling his aibou's worry.

Rishid didn't answer.

"What happened?"

"I can't tell you," Rishid finally said, voice low, oddly blank; then: "I need to talk to Isis."

And, in one sift motion, he turned away; Yami followed, and stood in his way.

"Wait. Are they still inside? Did you see Malik?"

"...Yes."

"Is he alright?"

"I don't know," Rishid murmured. "I'm sorry..."

_We have to do something__, _Yami argued, while Rishid walked around them again, hesitantly this time._ I'll go inside first._

_But he said not to. He wouldn__'t endanger Malik..._

_What if they used the rod on him?_

"Rishid, wait!" Yuugi said; the man obeyed. "Look at me."

Rishid blinked once, then lowered his head to look straight into Yuugi's eyes.

_Yami... I don__'t think..._

_We can__'t know if he isn't under the rod's influence,_ the spirit said warily. _Not total control, but..._

"I'm sorry," Rishid said again. "I have to talk to Isis. I..."

"But what about Malik! What happened?"

Rishid didn't answer right away.

"I don't think that Malik is in immediate danger," he said slowly; then, seeming to make an effort, he added: "I can't choose for you, but I beseech you to come with me."

Then briskly, he walked round them again.

Yuugi didn't move.

_He sounded worried,_ Yami commented.

_But he didn__'t look changed. Not like he wasn't himself._

_No_, Yami thought. _He didn't._

There was definitely something wrong here; they hadn't come so far to just leave without another look back; but Yami believed, wanted to believe, that for Malik, Rishid would, if not overcome, at least fight the rod's influence. And there was no sign of that either.

_We should come with him_, Yuugi eventually said, quietly, not really sure: it pained him to leave someone behind, as it seemed they were doing to Malik; but Rishid had asked them to... _He's our friend now. I trust him._

To that, Yami was silent. With one last look back, Yuugi followed the other man.

* * *

Jounouchi visibly didn't agree with their course of action; he'd only just stopped yelling at Yuugi for leaving without them without even telling them -what had he been thinking?-, when that bit set him off again:

"You gave away the rod and you didn't even _see_ Malik?"

"Rishid did," Yuugi protested unhappily, his voice muffled by the heavy towel with which he was, without any visible success, trying to dry his hair. "But he won't tell us..."

They were all back in the Ishtars' living room now; Honda had immediately offered to look after them anyway: he'd take Malik's motorbike. Maybe it wasn't too late yet.

But Yuugi had asked him not to: they hadn't abandoned a much surer chance to confront them to let Honda drive after them blindly on his own. Since then, Honda hadn't said anything, just looking ready to hold back Jounouchi, which didn't look necessary. Something much more drastic would have to happen before he actually attacked Yuugi. Especially if it wasn't the spirit in control.

"Well, he should," Jounouchi argued, actually calming down a little, and he simply looked at Rishid, instead of glaring at him. "You're the one who can _do_ something."

Rishid just stood where he had been since they'd come back; he'd moved only to bring Yuugi a towel and he hadn't said a word to Isis, unless there was some very subtle and secret signs the others weren't able to catch passing. Isis herself was staring at him, and nothing aside from her intense gaze was any indication that she was agitated.

"I can't tell you," Rishid said again, the usually stoic voice very close to shaking. "I promised..." He looked up at Yuugi. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be –" Yuugi began, confused by the man's apparent guilt.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Anzu asked. "Just wait?"

Rishid didn't answer, nodded vaguely.

"You said –" Isis voice, tense and controlled. "– that he isn't in danger...?"

"I would have stayed with him," Rishid said quietly, looking at her this time.

She pressed her lips together and nodded.

"Stayed with him?" Honda repeated suddenly, walking forward. "They would have _let_ you?"

No answer.

"Rishid," Anzu chimed in, worried. "Do you _know_ where Malik is?"

The man nodded slowly.

"Then – "

"I promised to say nothing until..." He looked at his watch. "Nineteen more hours."

"Why?" asked Honda. "If anyone can stop them, it's Yuugi."

"Honda..." Jounouchi began, confused and a little worried by his usually calm friend's insistence; while he agreed that they should do something, he also believed that in the end Isis and Rishid had to decide.

"Do you _want_ them to be stopped?" Honda added.

Rishid looked back at him, then at Yuugi, who looked not shocked or betrayed at all.

"I'm sorry," he said again, and looked down at his watch.

* * *

Air was blowing into his face, harshly, and the first thing he did when he was free was to close his eyes and bow his head, before the first coherent thought formed in his mind.

He was in a car; a red cabriolet, in a city; driven by someone who seemed barely older than he was, at the most, and whom he should know, he was certain; long blond hair falling down to his shoulders, tan skin, taller than him, a face with sharp regular traits, fingers tipping against the wheel now and then... but how did he know that person again?

"Namu?" he murmured, as the memory came back to him, like through a tick veil; the city was looking strangely familiar as well...

He was still feeling a little dizzy.

The blond beside him briefly averted his eyes from the road to look at him, the beginning of a smirk playing on his lips.

"Close, but not quite..."

* * *

_(end of chapter three.)_

_Uhm. Some things will probably start to make sense in the next chapter?_


	4. Chapter 4

_See chapter one for disclaimer._

_Many thanks to everyone reading, and especially for reviewing! :D  
_

* * *

Chapter Four

_(In which Sugoroku Motou has a few unpleasant déjà-vu experiences...)_

The boy blinked a few times, seeming fully awake but completely disoriented; yet he could tell he was facing someone who was as used to this as someone could ever get. He remembered how his mind slaves would react when they were suddenly freed and left to themselves: many of them would simply crumble down, like a puppet whose strings had been cut off, no matter how brief the possession had been.

He turned his attention back to the road: they were in the very centre of the city by now, and to his annoyance, he had to slow down considerably (a motorbike would be so much more handy!), but in the corner of his eyes, he saw the boy look around once more, and straighten his seat back up and fastening his seat belt.

"Do you even have a driver licence?" was the first thing he asked.

Malik threw him another critical glance. He still seemed pretty lost, and Malik wasn't sure he had registered his less than helpful comment at all.

"Don't worry about it," he answered confidently, which wasn't a very reassuring answer either, and accelerated briskly to pass a smaller car, amused by the angry shouts that were thrown at him from behind.

His passenger winced.

"Where... are we?" he asked after a moment, at which Malik spared another look at him: not that used to it, after all. Domino had been his home town, right? "Who are...?"

He trailed off, and Malik decided to take pity on him. Or something like that. He wasn't certain he'd be trilled by the answer, after all.

"We're in Domino-city. And I'm Malik Ishtar. Though you _can_ call me Namu, if you want."

He smirked again; the boy just stared at him for a moment.

"Malik Ish..." His eyes suddenly widened in realisation; Malik hadn't thought he could get any paler. "Oh." There was a pause: the boy looked around once again, maybe wondering if he could flee from a car in movement. "Oh." With that he sacked down against his seat.

The next few minutes passed in silence; Malik was sure he must have missed a turning.

The silence was broken by a sudden gasp; Malik looked at him again, and, following his gaze, understood what must have frightened his passenger even more: the millennium rode was dangling on a loop on his belt, securely fixed but easy to draw out; the boy was staring at the eye of Horus as if hypnotised.

"Why-" He managed to sound both accusing and brave and terrified. "-do you have this?"

"It's a long story," Malik said curtly.

"Yuugi had it," the other said slowly; his voice was trembling, but Malik wasn't certain if he was actually afraid, or unsure of his own statement.

"He's fine, if that's what you mean. Really."

The boy looked at him for another moment, then bit his lips, and sacked down once again, his mouth twitching, as if he was trying not to cry.

"Where are we going?" he asked after a moment of silence, in a much softer tone.

"Turtle Game Shop."

This time, the boy seemed really about to jump out of the car.

"Stop attracting attention" Malik hissed. "Don't worry," he added after a silence, as his passenger sacked back against his seat. "Yuugi isn't even there."

"Then – why?"

"We're only getting a card."

"You're... just buying cards?" the boy inquired cautiously, seeming to think this was too nice to be true; Malik didn't answer right away, suddenly feeling guilty at the hopeful, pleading tone of voice... "Na – Malik?!"

"Well... No. Probably not. He won't want to sell it."

"You were supposed to be..." The boy's voice was beginning to rise. "You – you _gave up_ your duel against Yuugi!"

There went his hope that maybe the boy wasn't too well informed about what had been going on in Battle City. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised.

"No-one is going to get hurt," Malik said.

There was a silence; Malik could see Ryou scrutinising him from the corner of his eyes.

"What card are you looking for?" Ryou asked.

"Not a real card. A destroyed one."

"The Blue Eyes White Dragon?"

"Yes." Malik threw him a quick glance, surprised. "I didn't know you knew."

"Yuugi's my friend," Ryou said, looking down on his lap. "What do you want with it?"

"I'll have it copied."

"That's all?" He sounded almost reassured to have fallen into nothing but art fraud "You're just after a fake Blue Eyes?"

"No," Malik replied. "It won't be fake if it's made by the original artist."

"Pegasus won't make any more of them," Ryou answered carefully, but there was something in his tone suggesting that he was quite aware there had to be more behind this. "He decided to stop producing them because they're too powerful."

Malik smirked.

"He won't have much of a choice..."

"What... did you do?"

"Check your pocket?" Malik suggested with a smirk.

Ryou stared at him with wide eyes; getting possessed by an evil spirit on a regular basis, this was no joke to him; he could find the weirdest things in his own pockets at any time, and he often tried to avoid even finding out. It wasn't worth it, most of the time...

Slowly, he reached into his pocket, and drew out a duel monster card: Funny Bunny. It looked ridiculously cheerful and – ridiculous.

"Here you are," said Malik.

_No, no __no__!_

"What is that?" Ryou whispered, horrified.

"Pegasus' soul card, presumably. The one he identifies with. I only met him once – is it fitting?"

"Pegasus' –" Ryou's hands were trembling "Oh Go- _Ishtar_!"

Malik jumped at the sudden change of tone, as the gentle boy suddenly hissed his name venomously, but he managed to remark:

"God Ishtar, really?" He grinned. "What do you want? I thought you said you'd leave him in control for a bit."

"What were you thinking, telling him all this?"

"Why shouldn't I?" He took a turning, sharper than necessary or advisable – he _loved_ driving.

"What if he'd thrown the card away?!"

"He'd do that?" Malik sounded vaguely impressed. The spirit shrugged, indicated he didn't really think so. "Then maybe _I_ should keep it after all..." He flashed the spirit a grin and slowed down a bit.

For a moment, it looked as if Bakura was about to rip out his throat; then he seemed to decide otherwise, and handed over the card without a word. Malik pocketed it without taking his eyes off the road. A moment later the boy's face was back to normal.

"What...?"

"You could stay out now!" Malik snapped, ignoring the boy. "We're almost there."

"What are you going to do? Where's the card?" Ryou asked frantically.

"It's safe." Malik rolled his eyes. "Bakura!"

"W-" the boy began, but his voice was cut off, as the spirit came back into control.

"We're there."

"I know," the spirit said, removing the seat belt. "Stop here, he doesn't have to see you."

"I could get it; he won't know."

Malik took the millennium rod out for emphasis. The thief shot him a glare.

"_I'll_ do it," he snapped irritated, and jumped out of the car, leaving the door wide open behind him.

Malik glared at his back as he left in direction of the game shop, quickly jumped over his own door without bothering with opening it, threw the door on Bakura's side closed, and ran after him just as he heard the jingle of the Turtle Game Shop's entrance.

When he reached it, it was just in time to be confronted to the sight of Sugoroku Motou's face twisting into a shocked expression; the spirit, his back to him, was facing the man, arms outstretched on both sides; the ring's magical light hit Sugoroku, and he collapsed behind the counter without a sound.

Malik stared at the place where he'd disappeared, feeling ill at ease; he had a strange urge to go and check if the man hadn't disappeared into nothingness.

"What are you doing here?" the spirit snapped at him, turning round. "I told you to stay in the car.

Malik shrugged; he wasn't going to start to even defend himself for not following Bakura's orders.

"Will he be alright?" he asked, motioning the counter with his chin.

"Who cares," Bakura snapped, clearly still annoyed at him.

Malik watched as he broke open the drawers, and rummaged through their content with professional ease; he was wearing gloves, and Malik carefully stayed in the centre of the room and didn't touch anything.

"I don't want to end up being involved in a murder, you complete –"

"I told you to stay in the car," Bakura interrupted him, then glanced up, and relented. "He survived it last time, no reason why he shouldn't again – ah!"

He triumphantly held up a board with a tick glass panel on one side: the card had been placed behind it, shreds carefully laid down next to each other, but without touching; there was no attempt to create the illusion that the card was still intact. Bakura looked at it with satisfaction.

"Perfect," he drawled, sounding pleased with himself; the irritation seemed to have vanished; he even smiled at Malik as he sauntered over to him. "Let's go."

He walked out the door; Malik glanced back at the counter, his eyes lingering on the till regretfully for a moment, then followed.

"Are you sure the chips are intact?" he asked, when he had started the car again (and he was emphatically not thinking about Yuugi's grandfather, lying on the floor in his shop); he wasn't entirely sure about Bakura, but he needed the new card to be able to pass for real, and for that he needed the microchips embedded in this one.

"How am I supposed to?" Bakura threw back, looking unconcerned, which confirmed Malik's suspicions that he needed the painting alone. "Brainwash some technician into testing it for us, or tell Pegasus you did." Malik made a face. "Well? Get us back to the hotel. I erased his memory, but that'll be for naught if we're still here when he wakes up. And then get rid of that car, it's showy."

Malik made an affronted noise in the back of his throat and gently caressed over the wheel, before he started the car and dove forwards briskly, satisfied by Bakura's small outcry of surprise.

* * *

The four of them had found place in Malik's abandoned room; Yuugi was sitting by the head of the bed, knees drawn up to his body, and head resting morosely over his crossed arms and his knees, Anzu half sitting half laying next to him, a tentative arm put around his shoulder. Jounouchi was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, while Honda had taken the only chair. Each of the latter two were skimming through one of the many motorcycle magazines they had found in the room, Jounouchi with blatant disinterest, and Honda with distraction.

"Are you sure Rishid doesn't know where he is?" Honda asked in a hushed voice; from the kitchen, Rishid and Isis' voices could still be heard from time to time, when they raised them.

"I believe him," Jounouchi said back, unhappily: strangely enough, he trusted and respected Rishid, even after this; he caught Honda's look and shrugged. "He wouldn't tell us anyway, it doesn't matter." He threw the magazine aside with distaste. "I can't believe we've come here to help that asshole."

"I don't understand why!" Yuugi's voice came from the bed, prompting the other three to turn towards him. "He didn't _have_ to give the rod to me after the tournament. Why would he do that and then steal it?"

There was a silence.

"Isis says he hasn't been well," Anzu eventually offered. "Maybe – he thought he was better off before, when he had it."

Jounouchi huffed out irritably, but didn't say anything. The resulting silence was broken by Isis knocking on the door, and opening it an instant later. She came inside, phone in hand.

"Kaiba again?" Jounouchi asked; Seto Kaiba had called once to inform them that Pegasus had been suspiciously quiet of late; then, that there was suspicious activity on Duellist Kingdom; then, to demand Rishid tell him what Malik was up to; then, again, for the same reason, at which point Jounouchi got into a fight with him, arguing back against the accusations he had himself thrown at Rishid not long before.

"No." Isis held the phone out to Yuugi. "It's your grandfather."

"What?" Yuugi straightened up and took the phone. "Grandpa ... _what?_ Are you okay!?... Did you check– ... Are you sure? ... Remember when mom was there and you thought she'd thrown it away and it was... Yes. But why would anyone? ..."

The other four, Isis included, listened while the one-sided conversation carried on; eventually, after asking once again if everything was alright, no, aside from that, their friend hung up.

"What was it?" Jounouchi asked eagerly. "Anything happen?"

"He was attacked," Yuugi answered, slowly letting the mobile phone sink. "He says he's fine, but someone stole his Blue Eyes."

"Why would anyone do that?" Honda asked.

Yuugi shook his head to indicate he had no idea; Jounouchi pushed himself to his feet.

"Well, I bet Kaiba's just gonna love _that_."

* * *

_end of chapter four._

_So... saw all of it coming? Saw none of it coming and still think it makes no sense? Something in-between?  
I hope some of what might be going on is becoming clear, even if the _why_ isn't...  
All comments are always greatly appreciated!_

_In the next chapter, we don't actually get to witness Kaiba's reaction but... there's a boat. Malik likes boats._


	5. Chapter 5

See chapter one for disclaimer.

Sorry for the delay this time. I made some _very _minor edits in the last chapter and hopefully the dialogue is less confusing now. Many, many thanks for the comments!

* * *

Chapter Five

_(In which there is, at last, a confrontation of sorts.)_

When he woke up, the floor was moving beneath him, and it took him a moment to realise this was because he was on a boat; he opened his eyes unsurely; coming back to consciousness was always frightening, but now that he knew for a fact that the spirit was up to something, it was even worse.

However, there were no dead bodies or anything equally horrible in sight; his body was sitting on the floor, leant against the wall of the small cabin; from where he was, he could see Malik's back, as he was standing by the front of the boat, looking over the sea.

It made him feel a little better that Malik was there, no matter how little trust or sympathy he had for him: the spirit almost always left him to himself just after leaving control, probably resting, and now at least he wasn't alone. Malik might even tell him what had happened and where they were, so he wouldn't be left to his horrible suppositions... And maybe, Malik was someone who wasn't in such imminent danger because of his closeness to him: after all, if he had almost not survived his first partnership with the spirit, it had not been the spirit's fault.

He breathed in deeply and stood up and looked around; a man was standing at the wheel, and remained stiff and unresponsive when Ryou approached him, then poked him lightly – ensorcelled in some way, maybe the rod. After a brief hesitation, Ryou walked over to Malik, silently praying that the spirit had not convinced him to leave him in the dark: he knew that the spirit hadn't been pleased when Malik had told him so much in the car.

Stupidly, he wondered what might have happened to that car: it had certainly looked expensive.

"Malik?" he asked softly, when he was standing right beside the blond; the latter turned his face to him slowly, cast him a piercing look, then nodded. "Where are we?"

"On the way back from Duellist Kingdom. Apparently the guy needs his own utensils to work," he snarled, clearly displeased. "Things to photograph the painting, turn it into a card..."

So Pegasus's soul had been freed?

"Where is he now?"

Malik raised an eyebrow at him, as if trying to figure out how he meant that question.

"We left his body somewhere safe."

"So..." He passed his tongue over his lips. "You still have the card?"

"Of course..."

"Could – could I take it?" Malik's eyes became sharp again; Ryou knew he had to be searching for the spirit. "Please?"

"Why?" Malik asked suspiciously; Ryou flinched at the cold tone, feeling that he just couldn't take this double animosity a second time!...

"They have to be taken care of. It affects the soul if the card is damaged."

"I... see..." Malik said slowly, leaning against the border of the boat, looking him over again. "What should I call you?"

He blinked up at him, confused.

"Bakura."

"No; I already call him that; what should I call _you_?"

"It's _my_ name."

"I know," Malik said impatiently. "But it's his name as well – don't you have a nickname, anything? What's your first name?"

"Ryou."

"Ryou. Right." Malik thought for a moment, but couldn't remember ever having known that. "Can I call you that?"

Ryou chewed on his lip again, and flushed a little. Cold and fresh sea air was blowing through his hair; the sun was close to setting; soon, the moon would be visible, and it was all as peaceful as during his first journey to Duellist Kingdom.

"I – it's very – personal." He looked up at Malik's face and sighed; he didn't like being called by his first name by someone he barely knew, let alone someone who was involved in his kidnapping – if the spirit doing whatever it wanted with his body and dragging his soul with him in the process could be called that –, but in a sense it was almost nice that Malik would want to have a separate name for him at all. "Fine..." he murmured.

"All right." The blond smirked, and held out his hand; "Malik; or, Namu."

Ryou cautiously took the hand, not seeing why this was supposed to be funny.

"Can I have the card?" he asked again.

Malik hesitated for another moment, then shrugged and drew the card out of his pocket and handed it to him; Ryou closed his fingers around it with as much force as he could without bending it, worried about the strong wind blowing it overboard, and tugged it into his own pocket, hoping he'd have the time to check it for scratches later.

"Thank you..."

Malik said nothing, and studied his face attentively; Ryou wondered what was so fascinating about his face. He was probably still trying to figure out if he could be the spirit trying to fool him; or maybe he was searching for differences in their features. He knew quite well that the lack of such a thing could be unsettling.

Then again, Malik should be used to far more disturbing things. He wondered if he could risk more questions.

_Stop fooling yourself_, he heard in his thoughts, even though the spirit was still asleep or deep inside his mind: but the voice would not entirely leave him alone, even when it really was silent. _It doesn't matter what you do or don't know._ _There's nothing you can do. Never again._

But it was easier, to keep pretending; any maybe, Malik –

But he shouldn't get high hopes just because he had accepted to give him the card; after all, the spirit had always done as much as well, had let him take care of his game pieces so they'd be in good shape when he needed them. And _he_ had not left him to die in the duel arena...

"What do you want with the card?" he eventually asked tentatively. What was the worse that could happen, anyway? "The Blue Eyes, I mean."

"Sell it," Malik answered promptly, as if that should have been obvious.

"What? But – everyone knows there are only four and that one has been destroyed! No-one will believe it's real! And Pegasus will tell them how you got it..."

Internally, he was shivering slightly: this wasn't that horrible, if Malik wasn't lying. But he was confident he knew his spirit well enough to be certain it wasn't just after money...

"That's what we have memory-manipulating magic for," Malik replied with a grin. Ryou jumped when he reached out and lifted his chin with two fingers. "Don't worry so much, Ryou."

Ryou took a step back; Malik wasn't pronouncing the name completely right, and it made it better, but it was still someone unpleasantly intimate; then again, maybe he shouldn't worry about such a thing with someone who had been inside his very mind.

"Nothing too bad will happen," Malik went on. "Just try to enjoy the sailing." He leaned back against the border again, so that it looked dangerous.

"I don't like the sea," Ryou murmured.

"You don't?" Malik looked aghast. "I love it. I had my own boat before Battle City," he added, vaguely dreamily.

"What happened to it?"

"My sister gave it back. I'd stolen it – well, manipulated people into giving it to me, anyway. I still have no idea how she managed to do it without getting me arrested."

"Maybe there was a bail?"

"Yeah..." Malik looked down, tapped his finger against the border; but he felt he had to get that question out. "Do you remember what happened in Battle City?"

Ryou tensed.

"...why?"

"Did Yuugi tell you about his and Bakura's duel?"

Ryou didn't answer immediately, confused by the way his name was used in reference to someone else – as if the spirit was family –, then shook his head.

"No – _he_ did." He looked up at Malik, suddenly feeling a little better – less alone – when he noticed how uneasy Malik appeared. "I have a debt because of it." He lowered his gaze again. "I can't possibly pay it back."

Malik stared at him, feeling decidedly uncomfortable; he'd never given Bakura's host, the way he would be caught in-between his and Bakura's plans any thought at all; in his mind, the host was just something that came with Bakura, intrinsically part of him, and a façade he could use than a person of his own right. But he knew what it was like to be banned from your own body, and –

"Malik?" He had spaced out, and this was dangerous, in presence of the ring spirit, no matter how inoffensive his host might be looking. "What does _he_ want?" Ryou went on, and instinctively lowered his voice, as if that could prevent the spirit from picking up on his words if he was listening.

Malik shrugged, forced himself to appear casual.

"He wants to use the card for some ritual."

Ryou didn't ask for any clarifications; instead he spoke quickly, intently:

"Can't you – you can get money elsewhere, especially with _this_." He motioned the millennium item. "Can't you let go of this, if you don't know what he –"

The rest of his sentence was inaudible, as the sound of an approaching helicopter covered it; Malik whirled round and looked up. The engine was approaching fast, and he realised that this couldn't be a coincidence.

"Oh, shit," he murmured, and drew the rod out; silently, he ordered the enslaved driver to accelerate.

"It's Kaiba," a silky voice beside him said; Ryou still somehow recognisable, but the tone quite obviously different.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" Malik screamed back; the helicopter was heading towards them, and if it might have been a good idea for him to hide, it was late by now; he could clearly make out the silhouette of Seto Kaiba, who, being Seto Kaiba, was standing by the open door of the engine. Freak.

And he must have seen him. Malik grit his teeth: he'd pushed the boat to its full speed on their way to the island, just for fun, and been highly disappointed.

"I told you we should break the man's fingers until he draws the thing right instead of listening to him!" the spirit snapped back; he had gotten out his deck and was shuffling through it so fast that Malik could not tell just how he could possibly _see_ any of the cards in the process.

Kaiba was shouting something, but the engine was still too far above them to hear; Malik was sure he knew one of the other people standing behind: Jounouchi. And could the third one be Honda?

"They're the pharaoh's friends!"

"Can't you _do_ something already?" Bakura answered, still not looking up from his deck, even as a ladder was being rolled down. "Reclaim control over the blond one."

Malik grit his teeth, and didn't waste time telling the thief that while he had still been capable of controlling Anzu's body even after he lost his millennium item, the same wasn't true was Jounouchi, who had broken its power with his own will, and would be near impossible to subdue again. Instead, he focused on Kaiba, who was standing close to the exit, and raised the rod.

He could hear Jounouchi scream as light streamed from it:

"He's going to take over your mind – dammit, hide you total –!"

What Kaiba answered, in a much quieter voice, he couldn't hear, and he wouldn't have cared, as he was confronted to a rather horrible realisation: the rod had no effect whatsoever on Seto Kaiba.

Jounouchi managed to push the CEO aside, and began to climb down the ladder; Malik cursed under his breath as he uselessly directed the rod on him; there were maybe two people in the whole world immune to the effect of its magic without a millennium item, and it had to be them!

He wouldn't have thought one of them would be stupid enough to try to come down to them, but now that one of them doing just that, he wasn't so certain the idea was all that stupid; he had seen Jounouchi fight; he wouldn't stand a chance... Jounouchi was dangling several feet above them, and Malik was beginning to think they might really not manage to get out of this – Bakura wasn't exactly being any help, and he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted his kind of help anyway – when he saw Honda appear just behind Kaiba. This was someone he could control at least, even though it might not turn out to be very useful.

But just as he was about to set off the magic, Honda collapsed on the spot.

He whirled round; Bakura had his head thrown back to look up at Jounouchi; he cast him a short smirk:

"Slow down the boat," he told him quietly; Malik narrowed his eyes, but followed the instruction quietly.

In his hands, Bakura was holding a card, between thumb and index finger, as if ready to rip it apart.

"What did you do?" Jounouchi screamed down at them; he was far down enough now that they could hear him even though the helicopter had had trouble to keep up with them at their sudden change in speed; he was glaring at him, instead of Bakura, which Malik found rather unfair.

"You might want climb back up if you don't want to lose your friend's soul forever," Bakura replied; and, as Jounouchi hesitated, not moving, neither for- nor backwards: "Or you could join him..."

Kaiba shouted something from above, but none of them paid attention. With the last words, Bakura had walked over to the border and –

* * *

The card fell into the see bellow; horribly slowly, so that Jounouchi felt as if he could hear it slide through the air – and yet way too fast.

A scream of horror escaped his mouth. The card was still floating on the surface; a little longer, and it would be soaked and sink. A sentiment of déjà-vu washed over him, only this time it was worse, because Yuugi could win duels without Exodia, but they could not retrieve Honda's soul without the card.

The boat moved, and the helicopter started to follow; Jounouchi didn't bother telling Kaiba, who would just argue, and instead simply let himself fall into the water.

For a moment, in panic, he couldn't see the card anywhere, and was certain he had lost it, washed away by the waves made by the boat, or simply too far already; then, through the haze of the moving waves, he saw it floating not far off, and steadily moving away.

He was a good swimmer, but somehow, he wished he could at least have taken off his shoes.

When he finally reached the card, and turned round to lay on his back to catch up before actually having to start worrying about how he would get back to the coast, he became aware of the fact the helicopter had never stopped hovering just above him.

Kaiba, still standing in the door, didn't have to shout: his voice carried far without effort.

"Are you going to bath here for long, or will you actually _get back inside_?"

The rope ladder, right above him, descended and traitorously pocked him on the nose. He wouldn't put it past Kaiba to have instructed the pilot to do this on purpose.

With a sigh, he put the card between his teeth, and forced himself to reach up and drag himself out of the water despite his exhaustion.

Even looking back at this later, he could never understand how exactly he had managed to climb up; Kaiba would pretend he had actually dragged up the ladder, but Kaiba was just being a jerk as usual.

He didn't want to think about how he had to look to Kaiba as he finally reached the entrance, soaking with water, bringing back something in his mouth, and dragging himself up to the floor where he collapsed right away.

A few seconds later, he was asleep.

* * *

_End of chapter five._

_I hope this made any sense. (If not, I might be able to put the blame on Ryou and his confusing life... :p )_

_In the next chapter, things slow down considerably. Comments are always greatly appreciated!_


	6. Chapter 6

AN: A reviewer said that the last chapter was confusing, so I only hope that this one is clearer – aside from the bit where Malik is very confused too, and Ryou has no clue what's going on and no-one's telling him. *cough*

Apologies for the delay. Many thanks for the comments!

See chapter one for the disclaimer.

* * *

Chapter Six

_(In which people play card games.)_

Jounouchi screamed as the card fell into the water; Malik wasted no time, and had the boat accelerate to the maximum.

A few moments later, the helicopter was far out of sight.

Malik leant back against the border, enjoying the sense of danger, and couldn't quite manage to feel anything but an entrancing sentiment of victory.

"Tell him to hurry," Bakura told him. "The spell won't last for long."

He looked up at the thief who seemed quite pissed, actually. He had every reason to be, Malik knew, considering they had been found out – how had they _managed_ that so fast, even with Rishid not staying quiet for a minute longer than ordered? –, but he really should be able to enjoy himself a little more.

"Why not?"

"This isn't Honda's soul-card – the binding won't last. Why didn't you do something with that rod?"

"It didn't work on Kaiba," Malik answered, hoping that would be enough of an answer; he could have blasted Jounouchi with it. But he had promised Ryou that no-one would get seriously hurt, and he might already have broken that promise, if Honda didn't wake up...

He straightened back up. Starting to worry about the spirit's host had definitely not been part of the plan – he never had before, no reason to start now!

But then, he hadn't known the host at all; and it had been beyond weird to talk to that version of the thief that was so different; he'd never given Ryou – the actual person, as opposed to the convenient body – much thought. He certainly hadn't expected him to be ready to betray Bakura, or to try to talk him into doing the same. He had seemed nothing but weak and helpless when he'd met him.

Bakura didn't say anything in answer, and instead studied him through narrowed eyes.

"You really are useless," he eventually remarked. "So much for your incognito."

"You're the one who contacted me," Malik threw back; the thief had no call belittling him now.

Bakura snorted.

"It's not _you_ I need." He glanced at the rod in Malik's hand meaningfully.

"Well, _you_ wouldn't have found a way to get it. Unless you actually beat the pharaoh for once."

"The least you could have done was to get us the necklace as well."

"And leave my sister without protection?"

"She doesn't even still have it."

"Well, she _should_. We guarded those things for three thousand years. The least the pharaoh could do is letting us keep them for a while."

Bakura raised an eyebrow at him.

"For a while?" he asked, curiously.

Malik clenched his fist around the millennium rod angrily and looked away, his face contorted to a painfully grimace, the ring spirit noted interestedly; Malik was nothing if not conflicted, and didn't that make him a hazardous ally.

"He'll need them, eventually."

Bakura narrowed his eyes, but they had reached the coast, and he restrained from further comment.

"We better get moving before Kaiba catches up. Send the boat away, with a little luck they'll follow it."

Malik opened his mouth for another angry retort, before deciding they should indeed hurry if they didn't want to get caught, and decided to leave the argument for later.

* * *

The door to his soul-room dashed open, to reveal an angry looking spirit. As he had remained conscious, but blind to the outside world, he had no way of telling how much time had passed, let alone where he – his body – might be. It hadn't felt like a very long time, but he had learnt in the past that he was often wrong about it.

The door shot close behind the spirit, while the latter walked up to him; Ryou winced, instinctively pressed his back against the wall behind the bed on which he was sitting. The spirit had never hurt him, and most likely would not do so now, but the knowledge didn't really make him seem less threatening when he wanted to appear so. Besides, the fact he was able to open and close the door to his soulroom at will while he himself wasn't always made him bitter.

"What do you want?" he asked, when the spirit stopped in front of his bed, and looked down at him in silence. The spirit was weird like that: he would come for whatever precise reason, and then wait for him to speak first. Ryou had never been able to figure out if it was some game of patience he was losing or an odd kind of courtesy.

"I'm going to let you back into control. You're in a hotel, still... in Japan, three days after last time you were in control. That's all you need to know. I do not want to try to leave your room under any circumstances."

Ryou pressed his lips together and nodded.

"And you will not make another attempt of turning Ishtar against me. Otherwise there will be dolls for you to take care of – or less. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes..." Ryou murmured weakly.

The spirit stared at him for another moment, before wordlessly turning round and leaving the room, without locking it this time. With a deep breath, Ryou let himself slip back into the real world.

* * *

He was laying on his back, on a large double bed; the pattern of the curtains behind him was painted over the wall on the other side of the room in light and shadows.

Someone was half laying half-sitting beside him, watching a football-match on TV.

"Malik?" he murmured, while sitting up.

The blond slowly turned his eyes to him, looked him over critically, and nodded. He was glad it was Ryou who woke up, not the spirit: for someone who seemed to have been around for three thousand years, Bakura could be surprisingly inpatient. Since they had arrived in the hotel where they were going to stay for a while, to give Pegasus time to paint, he had been reckless and snappy, and generally annoying, and was killing Malik's enjoyment of the situation: Malik liked hotels, especially expensive ones. It meant a room that he pretty much owned, but could leave in a mess someone else would have to clean up – especially if he didn't plan on coming back – , a TV and other devices to keep running, and people there to wait on him. These things were lost on Bakura. Malik did wonder why he was so eager to gain power that would permit him to take over the world if he didn't get any pleasure in ruling it...

"Where are..." Ryou interrupted himself. "Where's Pegasus?"

"My room. Don't worry about it." He straightened up. "Are you all right?"

"Yes..." He glanced down on himself worriedly: there seemed to be nothing wrong with his body. "Why?"

"Just checking. He wore your body out pretty bad."

"Oh..." He didn't dare asking, feeling that this might already be going too far, and maybe he didn't want to know; you had to learn to pick and choose. "What are you watching?"

"Some recap about Nakata's AS Roma season in 2001." He yawned, and switched the TV off, while Ryou blinked at him listlessly. "Oh, I asked your spirit what he wants with the card."

"You did?"

"Mm-hm. He's trying to revive the dragon, so he can use it without owning the card."

Ryou frowned. The idea of the spirit with a pet Blue Eyes White Dragon was not a pleasant one, but not all that horrible either: after all, he still wouldn't have the card, and outside of duels, lesser monsters he already controlled already seemed as bad as it could get...

"Are you sure?"

Malik shrugged.

"That's what he said, anyway."

Ryou said nothing. He wasn't supposed to ask questions, and even less to state disagreement.

"So..." Malik stretched out lazily. "Anything you'd like to do?"

"What... what do you mean?"

"What I said. We don't have anything to do until Pegasus' finished."

"I'm rather hungry..." Ryou offered hopefully.

"Oh, of course." Malik grinned happily. "I'll have something brought up. Wait, there's a menu here somewhere..." He began to search in the commode right next to the bed.

"I thought you don't have any money."

"Hm?" He looked up briefly. "Yes I do. Not much, but I blackmailed Isis into giving me some. Along with the rod."

"Oh..." He pushed away the menu Malik tried to show into his hand, while trying to make sense to this latest piece of information. "I think I'm not that hungry after all..."

"Oh come on! I sort of kidnapped you. The least I can do is getting you something to eat. It's not like it's your fault the money's stolen."

"...all right..."

* * *

About an hour later, Ryou was finishing the menu for two people he had eaten almost alone by stuffing his sixth cream puff into his mouth, and regained awareness of the world around him.

"He... never really eats enough," he explained, flushing a little, as he finally noticed Malik's aghast look. "Or maybe it's because I can't taste it..." He trailed off. "Sorry?"

Malik shook his head.

"No, it's alright... do you want me to order more?"

"N... no..." Ryou murmured, still embarrassed, and looked down. "I'm fine..."

"Is there anything else you'd like to do then?" Malik asked, looking at him insistently, but unable to look into his eyes, and nervously twisting his fingers against each other.

"I... don't know. I'm not supposed to leave the room..."

Malik blinked at him.

"Oh, dammit, Bakura. Why not?"

Ryou just shrugged sadly.

"We could play Duel Monster?"

"You can play?" Malik asked.

"Of course I can! I hope so, anyway," Ryou added sheepishly. "Actually, I haven't played since... several years..."

"Really?"

"Well, I... I planned strategies, and built a deck, but I never got to play..." He trailed off, and his shoulders sacked down. "Sorry, I – I'm usually not like that. We could just watch TV..."

"It doesn't matter... We can still have a duel, and see," Malik said, encouragingly. "Just for fun."

"I won't be much of an adversary for you. You made it to Battle City..."

"So did you."

"It wasn't me," Ryou said, sounding a little cross.

Malik shrugged.

"It wasn't really me either. My brother won the locator cards for me."

"You brother?"

"Rishid. You... met him... I think..."

He stopped. Those conversations would not stop being awkward anytime soon...

"The one who impersonated you when you were Namu?"

"Yes. That's him. He's really good. He should play on tournaments."

There was a pause.

"Why doesn't he?"

Malik shrugged.

"I don't think he's interested. He would if I told him to, though," he added, looking into space; there was another silence. "Should we start then?"

Ryou nodded with a smile, and they exchanged their decks.

At first, Malik thought that maybe he should hold back; it was true that he wasn't such an exceptional duellist, he was willing to admit as much now, but he _had_ mastered a god card, and Ryou still seemed rather unsure of himself – that, and a victory didn't really count for anything, and seeing Ryou be happy about winning might...

But he decided that it would be both too risky, and unfair to his adversary, and after a few turns, he was glad he had decided so: once he got into the game, Ryou's timidity was pretty much gone, and his deck was _scary;_ his own, stripped of the fake cards he had owned during Battle City – not to mention Osiris and Ra – was feeble next to it.

Ryou was down to five-hundred life points when he still had lost only three hundred; but he was aware that Bakura's deck had powerful moves that were playing from the graveyard, and that the destroyed monsters meant he would be able to call Dark Necrofear to the field (Ryou had been rather prudent, and currently had a defence monster on the field, which made him guess he hadn't drawn the card yet), and he decided that since he hardly had anything in his deck to counter it, it would be better to try and bring him down to zero before he got the chance...

By the triumphant smirk that appeared on Ryou's face at his next draw, he guessed that he had failed.

"Now..." Ryou began, while his index finger ran over the top of the cards, and he threw him a glance from behind them. "I sacrifice my three dead servants, the Headless Knight, the Lady of Faith, and Necro Jar." He flashed the cards at him while he drew them, before putting them aside." – to call..." His voice lowered to a sinister whisper. "...Dark Necrofear!" He placed the card in attack, and smirked again. "I don't think your monster stands much of a chance..."

"Could you stop being so creepy?" Malik snapped, while he put his own monster card on his graveyard and scribed down his new score.

"Huh?" Ryou blinked, as if waking up from a pleasant trance, and Malik narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious. "Creepy? Uh. Sorry." He ducked a little under Malik gaze. "I just... like the role-playing part of it."

He smiled sheepishly.

"Role-playing? It's a card game!"

"Yes but... That's why I didn't think I'd like it too much at first, but you can pretend you're commanding an army of undeaths!"

He smiled sweetly.

"Okay," Malik said slowly. "Is your turn over?"

Ryou nodded. Malik inwardly cursed himself for having brought this up: without meaning to, he seemed to have destroyed a good part of Ryou's enjoyment of the game, as the boy tried a few times to get back into "acting" – but never quite managed, probably too self-conscious now, and Malik didn't know what to do about it.

It had one positive effect, though, even if Malik felt guilty – he wondered if he would ever get rid of that feeling around Ryou – for thinking so: when the change came, he noticed almost immediately.

"It's your turn," his adversary told him.

To be fair, he only half-heartedly tried to hide his presence when Malik's last defence had fallen, leaving him open for the next attack. Still, as soon as he looked up at him, a triumphant smirk twisting his lips, Malik knew. He was proud.

"Bakura?!" he snapped, astonishment and anger fighting for dominance in his voice.

"Huh?"

The smirk disappeared, replaced by a clueless, confused look not unlike the one he had made half an hour earlier, when Malik had first called him on his odd behaviour, but he wasn't fooled (admittedly, he wasn't completely sure either; but he'd rather react when he was wrong than failing to react when he should have).

"_You're not Ryou_."

The spirit smirked at him.

"It's still your move, Ishtar. What?" He smirked again, as Malik looked around suspiciously. "Scared?"

"This isn't a shadow game?"

He was annoyed by his sudden panic, this wouldn't make any sense, Bakura still needed him, and he would have _noticed_ – but these things could be started in the middle of a duel... Maybe he shouldn't have told Ryou he was a lousy duellist.

Bakura leant back.

"If it was, you couldn't get out of it anyway... So...?"

"Fine..." Malik snapped, his pride finally getting the better of him. "I play Wall of Illusion in defence mode. End turn."

"Good..." Bakura didn't seem able to stop smirking. "Good monster. Too bad you won't get to use it." He laid down a card on the magic field. "Change of Heart on your Wall of Illusion."

"Isn't that Ryou's soul card?" Malik looked at it with a frown.

"How do you know?"

"He told me about it."

"Yes, he did. But I didn't think you'd remember. You were _looking_ at him when he was talking, I wasn't sure you were actually listening as well..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Malik snapped aggressively.

"My host – " Malik fought a sudden urge to throw his shadow magic at the spirit for the tone of possessive pride with which he was saying these words. " – has talents he's not aware of himself..."

Malik was about to snap at him again, but contained himself.

"Isn't it still _his_ turn?" he said instead, glaring at the spirit.

"Mm-hm," the latter agreed, still grinning, and went on immediately: "I sacrifice Wall of Illusion to call the The Earl of Demise. Direct attack on your life points – which brings you down to zero..."

"I don't care."

He reached over to retrieve his card from Bakura's side of the field, put it back into his deck and put it inside his pocket, all of it without looking at the spirit.

"You should check on Pegasus," Bakura said, in a more serious tone. "You're supposed to keep him under control, and you haven't checked on him this whole time, have you...?"

"Yeah, I will. Now get lost."

There was a brief pause; Malik instinctively reached for his rod, in case the spirit tried to attack him; instead, he suddenly disappeared. Malik was positive he could see the change right away.

"Ryou!"

The other boy blinked at him, reminding Malik of the first time they had met during this journey, and he had to admit he liked the sight of the change (maybe more worrying was the realisation he _did_ like it the other way round as well, the sudden appearance of arrogance and danger in the other's demeanour...)

"Yes," Ryou answered, smiling weakly, before he looked down on the cards, noticing only his were still there.

"He finished the duel instead of you," Malik explained, feeling bad for even having agreed to finish playing.

"Oh... I guess I should have expected him to take over. Did he win?"

"_You_ won," Malik snapped unhappily. "He only played your last move."

"Oh. Doesn't really matter." He shrugged, and glanced up at Malik, who was looking at him intently. "What?"

"I just... A few days ago you tried to tell me to stop him, and now you talk as if... On whose side are you?"

"I'm on no-ones side," Ryou said calmly, and recollected his cards.

Malik looked at him. He seemed oddly out of reach all the sudden, calm and collected and almost cheerful, but so... He'd assumed Ryou would hate the spirit, like he had hated the foreign entity that had become so strong inside him that it had chased what was left of him now from his body. And Ryou's actions had seemed to confirm that. But he didn't _know_.

"I have to go check something," he said hastily. "I'll be right back." He paused. "If that's all right with you."

Ryou nodded at him without looking up from his cards.

* * *

_Comments are great! I'm secretly just here for the comments. Or, well, not so secretly now. :p_

_In the next chapter – which is __relatively short – Malik can't sleep. And then I shall begin to panic about the fact I haven't written ahead far enough._


	7. Chapter 7

Hey! I apologise for taking so long with this chapter. Thank you very, very much for the reviews, once again; sorry for the lack of individual review responses, I will catch up with that.

I was wrong and this one isn't the chapter in which Malik can't sleep...

See chapter one for disclaimer.

* * *

Chapter Seven

_(__In which we find out a little more about what the other side has been up to.)_

He didn't really have to be near Pegasus to monitor him, but he was glad to have an excuse to leave for a while, and he didn't really want to freak out Ryou by prying into the millionaire's mind in front of him.

_Because deceiving him is so much better_, a small voice in his mind said. _And it's not like he doesn't know that you're involved._

He gritted his teeth.

What did it even matter? he asked himself, as he reached the door to his room, millennium rod in his right, gleaming with its holder's irritation. It was hardly his fault this time. Bakura had started it, not him.

He stopped in front of the door, grabbing his millennium item, and carefully probing into the artist's mind. Even after the ring spirit had threatened him into submission, Pegasus had calmly informed them that he would never be able to paint a real picture if his mind wasn't left free. While they had not let this count, they had understood that Malik's presence had to be kept at its minimum; it was creating a dangerous balance, one in which Pegasus might break free too easily – and where, on the other hand, they might subdue him too far for him to be able to create the card.

* * *

He threw the door to Pegasus' room closed only shortly after: the man always irritated him, and he was positive he did it on purpose, with his calculated air of elegant insanity, and his ability to look like he could read his mind, even though Malik knew this couldn't be the case; but it made him want to sever all connection between their minds, just to be sure and get ride of the discomfort, and wasn't that exactly what Pegasus would want?

He leant against the wall next to the door, and let the rod's light die down. It did feel good to have the item back, no use in denying that. Not just the item, but the mad power he could have with it... it wasn't _using_ it, it was the mere _knowledge_ that he could make any person do whatever he wanted to at any time!...

He should be past all this. Even if he had such a desire, he shouldn't have acted on it.

He _had_ defeated his own darkness; it was gone, wasn't part of him anymore.

But he didn't feel any _different_. He found that his anger was still there. Only unfocused and aimless, so that he didn't quite know what to do of it. Rishid had suggested that this was normal – not just normal for his situation, normal for a teenager –, but for some reason, Malik had found this even more frustrating.

He tipped against the gold with one finger, unsure.

If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he also liked the sense of danger that came with dealing with the spirit: the same trilling feeling that came with way too fast motorbike rides. And he didn't have to be so _careful_ around him: Bakura was evil anyway. Vis-à-vis of him he didn't feel ashamed and regretful in retrospective, for what he'd done in Battle City, at least.

He was aware that it was foolish to bring a millennium item so close to the thief – but approaching him without one would have been even more foolish, and as soon as Ryou was absent, it was hard to recall ever having felt remorse.

This should have been over, after his victory over himself; it should have been enough; soon, the pharaoh would open the gate to his memory, and then their duty as tomb guardians would finally be fulfilled, and he could start a normal life.

But it didn't work like that; he could, should _already_ have started a "normal" life, whatever that was supposed to be to begin with. Isis had, cautiously and without pressing the matter, asked him what he intended to do. She was talking about school, a job, things like that. He had haughtily replied hat he could read and write a dead language _perfectly_, which was a pretty unique skill, and would certainly manage find some work with that, to which she had patiently replied that he might still want to get a degree, and that revealing just how large his knowledge was might still be, if not dangerous then at least very disconcerting and confusing to those who learned of it; they might not even believe him.

Malik had shrugged it off. In truth spending the rest of his life working on anything that was in _any_ way related to ancient Egyptian texts was last thing he wanted, but he didn't think it wise to reveal that at this point. It wasn't like he couldn't spend months and years doing nothing, and counting on his sister and his brother to support him, but he didn't want to remain in such a dependence forever.

He sighed, remained motionless for a few more moments, and straightened back up. He would get through this. And maybe he should be more careful around Ryou... Maybe he had never met the real Ryou, it was all a scheme Bakura had made up to confuse him. No, this was stupid. He would have noticed, as an item-holder.

But did the pharaoh? He had immediately recognised the spirit during his their duel on the battle ship, but Bakura wouldn't have been able to remain hidden until then if he always knew when it was the spirit who was in control...

Unless, he thought angrily, Ryou had actually covered for him...

* * *

"Are you insane?"

Jounouchi's voice rang loudly through the large room which, Anzu supposed, passed as Kaiba's living room, or would, if it wasn't for the fact that they had gone through three similar ones on their way there; Mokuba was sitting in front of a large TV, eyes riveted on the screen, fingers moving on his controller faster than the untrained eye could follow, but she could tell, by the way his shoulders occasionally tensed and relaxed that he was listening to their conversation; now, he hunched down a little; Anzu had the weird feeling that he was trying not to laugh. They'd left Honda in the Game Shop with Yuugi's grandfather, and had thus the person who usually held Jounouchi back from lunging at Kaiba was missing.

"You can't have anyone barge in on them like that," Jounouchi went on, while Kaiba watched him yell with a dispassionate look on his face. "The spirit can bring cards to life _were you listening to anything we told you?_"

"I was. I remember how you said that your friend Honda would never have woken up if you hadn't ruined our chances to follow them by driving into the see just to retrieve a card," Kaiba remarked sarcastically. "A pretty common one, at that," he added voice perfectly serious this time, seeming to suggest that had the card been rarer, it would have been a perfectly legitimate action.

"It – " Jounouchi began, clapped his mouth open and shut a few times, unable to find a good answer to that, and, in this moment, very much annoyed that Honda had woken up, no matter how relieved he had been when he had regained consciousness right before they'd landed. "Oh, forget it," he gave up, throwing his arms up dramatically. Kaiba smirked.

"We need to find them," the other Yuugi said calmly.

Kaiba straightened back up.

"You do that," he said, in a clipped tone that suggested that the conversation was over.

"Kaiba, your plan wouldn't work, but we do need your help."

"It's your problem. Or that of the police."

"Whatever it is they're after," the other Yuugi answered calmly, "it has something to do with the Blue Eyes White Dragon."

Kaiba twitched visibly. Be it because any involvement of the card interested him or because he felt guilty – or at least, like he owed a debt – for being the one who had torn it up, Kaiba had helped them this far: when he had heard about Motou Sugoroku's card, he had immediately arranged for a flight back to Japan for them; how he had a private jet ready in the airport of Cairo was anyone's guess.

"You don't know that."

"Kaiba," the other Yuugi said reasonably, "they stole my grandfather's card."

"You don't know _they_ did."

"It's magic that knocked him out, I'm certain of it."

Kaiba rolled his eyes and looked away.

"I didn't know what to make of it first," the other Yuugi went on, "but now that I know that the ring spirit is involved, I do. And we can be almost certain they kidnapped Pegasus, and are forcing or bribing him to help; Bakura did call us from Duellist Kingdom, _you_ found that out, and that's were they were coming from. Whatever it is they're after, It will affect the game, you know that..."

"Fine," Kaiba interrupted him. "Fine, I will help. I _was_ suggesting –"

The other Yuugi didn't let him finish:

"Jounouchi's right," he pushed on. "We can't barge in on them like that, and your people, without protection even less; but if you can locate them..."

"Of course we can," Mokuba threw in with a note of childish cockiness, and put the controller aside even as a blinking score appeared on his screen.

The older Kaiba cast him a glance, then gave a curt nod.

"Fine," he said again; Mokuba grinned cheerily and stood up.

"I'll look into it," he promised, before leaving the room; Anzu and Jounouchi exchanged a glance: there was something slightly off with leaving this to a child; or with a child having this kind of power. Or both.

"Do you have any idea why they might have stolen it?" Yuugi asked.

Kaiba gave an annoyed, jerky shake of the head.

"If it was any other card, I'd say they want to create a counterfeit." He made a contemptuous face at their confused expressions. "When Pegasus created the cards, he had chips implanted in each of them to make it more difficult to forge them. It's what the hologram system uses to recognise them."

"So my Grandpa's Blue Eyes White Dragon still has intact chips that could be inserted into a new card," the other Yuugi concluded.

"But if a forth one shows up, everyone, we will know it's this one!" Jounouchi said; Kaiba nodded, scowling.

"I suspect that the ring might be able to tamper with one's memories," the other Yuugi said tightly. "If he makes Pegasus forget what happened –"

"_We_ will still know," Anzu remarked. "Maybe if they sold it to a collector who doesn't use it...?"

"I've no idea what Malik wants, but I'm sure money isn't what the ring spirit is after," the other Yuugi said darkly. "We have to find them and stop him before everything else. Pegasus is in grave danger."

"You don't think he'll rip out his millennium eye, do you?" Jounouchi asked; Yuugi's earnest face was answer enough; Jounouchi looked like he was going to be sick. "Where'd Kaiba go?" he added.

Their host had slipped out of the room during the last exchange.

"Helping Mokuba?" Anzu suggested; at she didn't think the mention of Pegasus, whom he hated – and with good reason –, would be enough to make him less eager to find out what was going on. "What about Bakura?" she added, towards Yuugi.

"He will probably be fine. The spirit won't let any harm come to him." His lightly let his fingers glide over the puzzle, gentle as a caress. "We're more worried about Malik."

* * *

_Note: Yuugi and the others don't know about Bakura stealing the millennium eye (Actually, I'm not sure they ever find out in canon, especially in the anime...)_

_I'm not sure Yuugi and his group, maybe Yami and Yuugi themselves excepted, ever get completely used to the Kaibas...  
_

_Thank you for reading! The next chapter should be there as soon as I've done some revising. Comments are greatly appreciated!_


	8. Chapter 8

_See chapter one for the disclaimer, as usual._

* * *

Chapter Eight

_(In which the villains get themselves a nice cottage.)_

"Well?" was the first thing Bakura said when Malik returned to the hotel room; he was sitting cross-legged on the bed and laying cards from his deck out in front of him, in a way that looked random to Malik. "How far is he?"

Malik closed and locked the door behind himself, chunked the keys onto the table by the door, and walked over to the thief.

"Looks close to finished to me, but he says it's not." He shrugged; they'd counted on it taking a while, even with Pegasus working non-stop; it was still time before they'd have to worry about the artist trying to stall. Malik sat down on one side of the bed and slipped off his shoes. "What are you doing?"

"Reading them," Bakura answered cryptically, and, when Malik leant over the bed to get a clearer view at the cards laid out in front of the thief, reassembled them with a few swift movements.

Malik shrugged, and lay down next to the spirit, upper body pushed up by the elbows, and watched him as he recollected the cards with odd care, shuffled the completed deck a few times, and put it safely away.

"Did you know he could impersonate you?" he asked only when the thief had finished, trying for casual.

Bakura glanced up and grinned at him, nastily. "I know everything about my host," he said, and his grin broadened when Malik glared at him in answer. "He's good at acting – just usually too unsure to use his skill. But it's useful."

"Useful?"

"It's easier to pretend when the body you use has some practice in it."

Malik narrowed and glanced away, pretending to be very interested in the blank TV screen; from the corner of his eyes, he could see Bakura still grinning at him

"Can't we rent a third room?" he asked plaintively.

"You sister didn't have that much money," Bakura chided.

"Pegasus does."

"Here, with him? In cash?" Bakura asked sarcastically, and then smirked. "You didn't think this whole thing through at all, did you?"

"Maybe I didn't," Malik said, crossing his arm and falling back on the bed. "But I can probably still just let you rot here and go back."

Bakura raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't comment.

"If you say so," he said, eventually, in a noncommittal tone. "If you want to be rid of me so badly..."

And he vanished.

Malik was beginning to get used to the disoriented look their face got when the body's original owner returned to control. It was, possibly, just a little bit cute.

"Hi again," he said to the ceiling.

"What happened?" Ryou asked, looking around the room curiously.

"Nothing." Malik threw him a covert glance. "Quit being so jumpy."

"Sorry," Ryou mumbled distractedly.

Malik rolled his eyes, sat up, and reached for the TV remote, all the while carefully not looking at Ryou.

* * *

_"__...it's easier to pretend when the body you use has some practice in it..."_

Bakura's words wouldn't leave him alone when he was back in his room at night, clunched together lying on one side, Pegasus' mind put to forced sleep. Damn him. Now he couldn't sleep. He hated not being able to sleep at night. He had already turned on the small desk-lamp next to the bed because he couldn't bear the dark, but its white, piercing light, painfully bright, was going to keep him awake as well.

And – he missed Rishid. Both Rishid, and Isis, and home, but Rishid more than all. His own darkness was gone, he had defeated it, he repeated this himself in a quiet, unintelligible mumble like a mantra, the pharaoh had forgiven him, and he had finally completed their duty... And during the day, after it had all been over, he'd been calm, and later reckless, and in both cases determined to take control of his own life – but during the nights, his fear came back, dark and insidious and worse than all _familiar_, and he felt sudden sympathy for the Aztecs who, he had been told, used to sacrifice humans every night out of fear that the sun would not rise again.

Only Rishid could calm his fear; would sit by him, sometimes for the whole night, and hold him.

If he could at least call him now. But he'd have to call the apartment, Rishid didn't have a cell phone (he'd get him one, at the next occasion), and Isis or, worse, Yuugi might be there, and what would he tell him?

He rolled onto his back with an annoyed sigh. And he couldn't just leave now, he wouldn't be able to pay Rishid and Isis the money he had blackmailed them into giving him back – but, of course, that was a lousy excuse, they'd still rather want him to come home. He hoped they still did, anyway.

He winced at the thought. Stupid thought. Rishid wouldn't abandon him, ever. He closed his eyes very tight. He knew this, but the fear wouldn't leave him alone... He did not _deserve_...

Still, at this point it could be late and Bakura might just proceed without him anyway and –

Fuck Bakura, and his way of speaking about Ryou like some pompous car owner. And fuck Ryou, and his sudden protectiveness of the spirit.

He winced in the darkness.

He rolled back onto his stomach, completely wrapping the blanket around his body in the process.

Not true. Bakura still needed him, or at least he needed the millennium rod, and Malik was going to hold on to _that_. That was why they had renewed their partnership in the first place. The right thing to do would be to just leave the ring spirit to himself and tell Yuugi what was going on, offer his help, so they could free Pegasus.

But he wasn't going to leave, go back and beg forgiveness _now_... just because the darkness frightened him. It would be over by morning, he silently told himself.

_My host has talents he__'s not aware of himself._

"Go to hell, Bakura..." Malik murmured into his cushion. He didn't sleep all night.

* * *

The next day, they moved base.

Staying in one place for too long was a hazard, now that Kaiba was on their trail, and the pharaoh with him: Malik had no desire whatsoever to face him, and he suspected the same was true for the thief; he wasn't sure, of course. Bakura had a certain tendency for self-destruction, Malik had noticed that when they'd duelled his personified darkness.

Maybe, he thought gloomily, as he watched the trees fly by from the window on the train – he'd had to give up the car –, this was why he had decided that partnering up with the spirit was such a good idea: he'd been the one solid, almost friendly, at least oddly human person by his side when he'd faced his own darkness; by comparison, he'd been a friend.

Hotels were expensive and too easy to search for someone like Kaiba, Bakura had declared, so they found themselves a small cottage in a remote area. It was surprisingly easy: Malik wielded the millennium rod as soon as the door opened to them – Bakura looking like Ryou at his most innocent, correct and sweet and maybe a little confused – and it was a matter of instants to take control of the minds of the two people inside, a couple, a man and a woman in their early sixties as it turned out.

"Not bad," Bakura acknowledged with a grin – Malik watched his face change from Ryou's mask to this expression with quiet fascination – and walked past him and the man and the woman who were staring into space with vacant expressions on their face.

"Told you I'm better at this than you'd be," Malik said, grinning back, and spinning the rod in one hand, feeling suddenly elated.

Bakura snorted at him but didn't stop grinning.

"I only hope that doesn't mean you've lost Pegasus."

"Do you know that I used to control a whole army of these?" Malik snapped back, even as he mentally ordered the currently controlled Pegasus to join them.

"Be careful," Bakura said, serious now. "He's pretty broken now, but he did manage to control the millennium eye once."

Malik closed the door behind the American millionaire.

"So?"

"He has some experience with dealing with – magical intrusion of the mind. And he's strong-willed, and sneaky." He turned to Pegasus. "Release him."

Malik considered arguing – Bakura's tendency to order him around annoyed him just as much as, he was sure, the opposite annoyed the thief, but relented: he didn't like to admit it, but subduing three minds was strenuous. He did use to have many people at once ready to be taken over – he didn't control them all at the same time, however.

Pegasus blinked with his one eye, then straightened up – he was wearing the same now rumpled red suit as the day they'd kidnapped him, so Malik had no idea how he managed to still make it look elegant – drew a hand through his hair, brushing it further over his face on one side to hide the lost eye completely (Bakura's doing, this, Malik suspected; the thief had so far refused to flat-out admit it, but he hadn't tried very hard to convince him of the contrary either, and one day the pharaoh would need this millennium item as well, so really, the thief had done him a favour by securing it for him) and looked around.

"Ah. Not a hotel this time, I see." He smiled briefly. "Very quaint," he commented on the house.

Malik couldn't see anything quaint about it; but it looked lived in, shoes lying, in disorder, on the anteroom, old jackets hanging by the door, things scattered all over the place wherever you looked; all along one wall there were cabinets that might once have had a practical use, but where now covered with a bizarre, stuffy collection of keychains, used and broken pencils, half a deck of regular playing cards, plastic flowers, and a few toys that looked like they were coming right out of a cheap automaton.

He looked away; he couldn't tell why, but his escape from his families' underground prison had brought a furious want for clean, new-feeling places. People, minds were different, easier. _They_ were malleable.

"Set up your things," Bakura motioned the half-finished painting they had carefully transported with them, which had not been fun on the train. "And go on." Pegasus stiffened, cast the spirit a dark look, but didn't protest. "Oh, and first, write me a list of estates you own. Empty, inhabitable ones."

"What for?" Malik asked curiously once Pegasus had disappeared; the man's mind felt subdued to him now, like it often did after direct Pegasus directly interacting with the spirit. Malik mentally followed him to a living room where he cleared away space, then shut off the contact.

The spirit glanced after Pegasus through the anteroom's open door, then made his way to the kitchen.

"What do you think how long we can keep these two –" Bakura gestured dismissively at the controlled couple. "– like that without anyone wondering? I'll need space and time for the ritual."

Malik followed him to the kitchen, where, without looking up, Bakura rummaged through the fridge and made a dissatisfied face at the contents. The kitchen was small, with no space to sit; safe for one counter, where most of the cooking was probably done, it was dusty; the many pots of what looked like home-made marmalade looked like they hadn't been opened in ages, and there were dead flies lying beneath the bright stickers on the windows. There was a very small garden outside, and then a field. It wasn't anything Malik would have chosen, but he let himself relax; irrationally, he found it easier with the spirit than with the latter's host.

"Won't Kaiba notice?" he asked.

"We'll just have to be careful," Bakura said distractedly, and straightened back up; he looked at Malik, who was leaning against the doorframe and watching him. "What?"

"Nothing. Is it empty?"

"There's fish," Bakura answered, and Malik mirrored his disgusted look: it was rare that they agreed about food, but Bakura's taste, Malik had found, ran towards mostly raw meal, and he was a vegetarian. "I suppose my host might like it."

"I think he'll eat about anything after you've been in control."

Bakura didn't answer; he walked through the rest of the small kitchen, picked up a small, smudged notebook from the counter and scanned through it, then pocketed it.

"What are you doing?" asked Malik, when the thief pushed past him back into the corridor, and started to inspect its contents with professional ease.

"Looking if there's clues to anything we'll need to know about these." He motioned the two still figures with his chin. "And I'll need some good wood," he murmured, more to himself than to Malik, and eyed the stairs' railing speculatively. Malik ignored the last bit, which didn't make sense to him anyway.

"Can we nick their stuff and sell it?"

Bakura wiped round and focused his attention back on him.

"What is it with the sudden kleptomania?" he asked, and sounded genuinely interested, and almost amused, and not meanly so. "You weren't like that last time. And no, don't be stupid."

"I don't know," Malik muttered back, slumped against the doorframe and watched the thief as he went back to his inspection. "It's just..." A way of keeping score, perhaps; proving he still could, proving that giving up his revenge didn't mean he was just neatly fitting into a pattern of expectations and correctness; and, well, having money was nice... "I stole a boat last time. And a motorbike. And a crane."

Bakura gave him a look, then shook his head, and went up the stairs without comment. Malik stared after him for a moment, then walked to the living room to look after their prisoner. Pegasus didn't acknowledge his presence: he seemed completely immersed in his painting: the colours were laid out on the table next to him, together with a piece of paper where he must have written the list Bakura had demanded. Ignoring him in return, Malik picked it up, vaguely wondered why he had written the list in Kanji, and let himself fall down on the nearest chair.

* * *

_AN: ... I think this chapter and the next one are a bit bizarre, but so is the situation. Uhm. I don't know. Thoughts?_

_In the next chapter, Malik and Ryou talk some more about evil spirits. _


	9. Chapter 9

_Many thanks for the __reviews! :)_

_See chapter 1 for disclaimer, as usual._

* * *

Chapter Nine

_(In which __Malik has nothing to do and dolls are creepy.)_

It was still relatively early in the evening, but dark clouds had formed in the sky, and Pegasus had claimed that he couldn't work in the fading light; Malik had locked him up in what looked like the couple's bedroom. Bakura had come down briefly once, to look at the painting and take the list, without listening to any of Malik's suggestions about it, and to tell him to have the two controlled mortals – his words – call in sick for work, providing him with the numbers (not that Malik couldn't have drawn them from their minds, he thought a bit petulantly); since then, Malik had not heard a word from him, and he had passed the time watching TV. But he was getting bored now, and came upstairs to look for his partner.

"Bakura?" he called; the other one must be somewhere on the second floor, but everything seemed quiet.

"I'm here," a soft voice – not the ring spirit's tone – came from behind a closed door; Malik opened it to find Ryou sitting by the desk of what looked like a private bureau, carving something out of wood.

"What are you doing?" Malik asked curiously; he closed the door behind himself, turned the light on, and walked over to the desk to look over Ryou's shoulder.

"Dolls," Ryou murmured in a weak voice.

Malik picked up one piece of wood Ryou had apparently already worked on and turned it between his fingers curiously. It was as tall as a finger, and he supposed that you could see it as a head and a body; there were even, he realised after a closer inspection, two small bumps that could be the hands or the arms.

"What for?"

He walked around the desk and sat down on a second chair on the other side of it, which creaked under his weight.

"The two of them," Ryou said, and put the second wooden doll and the knife down; Malik had been wondering why Bakura, who didn't tend to get into physical fights, even carried a knife. He wouldn't have guessed that it was for doing handcrafts. "He wants to ban them into them. It won't work if it's to something that's not related to them at all." He held the second doll up to the light, and gave Malik a weak smile. "If I pain their faces and clothes on, it'll probably be enough."

Malik was annoyed that the thief had apparently called his bluff when he'd claimed he could keep the two of them, and, if need be, Pegasus, under control the whole time; and Ryou's demeanour was disconcerting. He looked out of the window: it had started to rain now, and the raindrops were running down the glass in increasing speed.

"I'll be right back," Ryou said, still in that soft, subdued voice, and left him alone; he was back shortly thereafter, with Pegasus' colours.

Malik watched him in silence as he carefully laid them down, and then started to work on the wooden dolls, but in the end, he had to ask:

"Would he harm you if you didn't do this?"

"Harm _me_?" Ryou paused in his work, and looked at him like the notion was completely foreign to him. "No, no. But he might kill them, if he doesn't feel like making them himself."

With that, he went back to his painting; Malik stared at his fingers as he worked; he looked no less concentrated than Pegasus did when he painted. It had to be something about artists.

"Oh," he eventually said, and was silent; Ryou didn't seem to hear him.

"Finished," he said, after a while, carefully putting the second doll down. There were small spots of pain on the desk, but that was probably a small price to pay by its owners for not getting murdered. Malik looked at the dolls curiously: if you knew who they were supposed to represent, you could see the resemblance, he supposed. "Can y –"

Ryou was cut off as the ring flashed, bright golden, and Malik felt something hit against his inner barriers, tear at his mind; he closed his hand on the rod in panic, convinced, for an instant, that the spirit was attacking him...

Then it was over.

"There," the spirit said, glancing at him with a slight smirk. "You don't have to control them anymore."

Malik grabbed the sides of his chair and looked at the dolls: was it just his perception, or did they have oddly blank looks on their painted faces, instead of the faint smiles Ryou had given them earlier?

"Could have warned me," he snapped at the spirit. "I was still in their mind. That _hurt_." The spirit just continued to smirk at him, clearly pleased with himself. Malik looked down at the dolls. "This is creepy."

"_He_ likes them," Bakura said with a shrug. "I know my host," he added, when he noticed the incredulous look Malik gave him for that. "He feels guilty for it, but he does."

"I'll go have dinner," Malik snapped and stood up.

He was only half-way to the stairs when he heard the door being opened behind him again; he turned round.

"Look, I don't w – oh, it's you."

Ryou smiled at him uncertainly.

"I could cook something?" he offered.

Malik gave a jerky nod, and turned right to the living and dining room when he reached the base of the stairs.

Ryou, it turned out, was a pretty good cook, even when he had to improvise with what he had, which in this case turned out to be different sorts of rice – enough, overall, but very little of each sort – various vegetables, and the fish, which Malik refused to touch. Malik watched him as he began eating with the post-possession haste he was beginning to get accustomed to.

"Why do you keep the ring if you don't like what he does?" he asked suddenly.

Ryou froze mid-chew, a comical look on his face; then he swallowed his food and took a long drink of water, only to do nothing but shrug in response.

"He leaves you in control often enough," Malik added.

Ryou put down his chopsticks with a sigh.

"It doesn't work like that..."

"Why not?" Malik asked, almost angry, even though he was aware that this was entirely unfair of him. "You could get ride of the ring – you could take it off, now. Anytime. He wouldn't be able to do anything."

Ryou shook his head.

"I thought so too... I kept it with me because I thought that as long as I didn't wear it, it would be alright, but – it's not just the ring. He's connected to _me_."

Malik made a sceptic face.

"Look – during Duellist Kingdom, Honda threw it away. Into the sea." He marked a pause, caressed over the gold. "It came back. I don't know how – it just did.

"Wait," he added, when Malik seemed about to object. "After Battle City, they were about to leave it behind; they didn't tell me what happened to it, and it would have exploded with the island..."

"But...?"

"I knew it wouldn't work. I knew it would come back anyway... So I took it back."

"You – "

"And when we were back in Domino, I gave it to Yuugi, because I thought that if anyone could keep it safe, it would be him." He smiled sadly. "See how that worked..."

"I..." Malik trailed off, silently looked at the boy across of him, before unsurely raising a hand to lay on his arm, before remembering that by their first meeting, this simple, timid gesture of comfort had been twisted for the two of them. Ryou looked at him, the ghost of a smile on his lips, and Malik could see no sign of resentment in his eyes. "Did he posses you? Without the item?"

Ryou nodded slowly.

"It's become stronger since I got the ring," he said softly. "Maybe it was already there before – he says I was _meant_ to have it, that it _had_ to find me." He pressed his lips together. "At first he just took over my body, and I wasn't aware of anything during that time, or I forgot... After I met Yugi, I heard his voice for the first time. And later... I could hear him even when I wasn't wearing the ring, when I was only looking at it... He wasn't able to take over my mind when I didn't wear it, at the time. He talked me into it doing it for him... But this time..."

He fell silent, and crunched lower in his chair; Malik hesitantly drew his hand back at the movement. He knew what was left out: this time, the spirit had been strong enough to control him without the millennium object – at least long enough for him to steal it.

"I didn't know," Malik murmured softly, looking down at his plate. "I didn't know it was so similar..."

"To what?"

Malik glanced up at him; he hadn't meant to explain this, but Ryou now looked interested and eager, and he felt he owed it to him.

"My... my other self," he said, in a strained voice. "It was like that. Him becoming stronger, until he chased me from the body completely..." He flinched under Ryou's curious look, and automatically closed a hand around the millennium rod at his belt. "I wonder if being controlled by the millennium rod feels like that." It was an uncomfortable thought.

"You mean you don't know?" Ryou sounded surprised, but had calmed down enough already to start eating again. _How does he _do_ this?_ Malik wondered absently.

"Of course I don't – I've never experienced it from that side."

"Don't you want to? Just to find out?"

At that, Malik started and narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously; he was clumsily pushing food into his mouth, his hair was flat and wavy, he looked very much like himself...

"Why?" he asked sharply. "Are you offering to show me?"

Ryou blinked up at him; then he let his chopsticks sink.

"Oh," he said, and was blushing now, which Malik found weirdly distracting. "No, of course not – you can't give me – sorry."

Malik didn't answer. They finished eating in silence.

* * *

Afterwards, Malik offered to do the wash up, and urged down the automatic annoyance at their hosts not being in a state to do it for them; after, he helped Ryou drape the latters' bodies into blankets and lay them down as comfortably as possible on the carpet in the living room, which, he had to admit, was all a little disturbing: they looked dead, more so than his favourite puppet had when his mind didn't control it from afar.

"Do you think you could ask him to send them back into their bodies when you leave?" Ryou asked him after they'd finished and returned to the bureau, where Ryou picked up the two dolls with care.

"I guess," said Malik. "I can't promise he'll listen to me though."

"I think he might," said Ryou, put the figurines down and smiled at him friendlily. "He missed you, you know," he confided.

Malik stared.

"What?"

"The spirit." Ryou sighed and added: "Bakura."

"... missed me?" Malik asked, and as Ryou nodded: "You're not serious, are you?"

"Yes I am. It's... He's never been allied to anyone ever since I got the ring."

"What about you?" Malik asked, with an involuntary hint of sharpness in his tone.

"I..." Ryou pressed his lips together, and then, angry: "I'm not his ally."

"So you said..." Malik, drawled, a little suspicious despite of himself.

"Look... He doesn't think I am. I've been fighting him, and... He's never been together with someone who'd talk and argue with him, and..." He stopped. "I think he enjoyed it."

"If you say so," Malik said sceptically.

Ryou nodded, apparently satisfied with that.

"Do you think," he asked timidly after a moment. "Will you stay here for long?"

"Probably not," Malik said with a shrug, on safer grounds again; the thought of the spirit actually – not _hating_ him was a bit thrilling and frightening at once, and even guilt-inducing, if he believed it, because Malik had used him as an outlet, someone who was beyond human anyway and safe from harm; and yet, he had been almost friendly, of late, that much was true. "Why?"

"I'm not sure they can survive like this for very long without intensive care," Ryou explained matter-of-factly.

"Ah," Malik said, and completely unfairly, he was suddenly missing the spirit's presence a bit; it was safer, in a strange way. "But they'll be fine for a few days?"

Ryou nodded.

"I think so." He tenderly caressed over one of the dolls. "I don't understand why. It's just how the magic works." He stretched out his arms tiredly. "Do you want to play a game?"

"No!" Malik said reflexively; Ryou winced at his tone. "Sorry, I mean – not right now. Tomorrow, maybe. Hey, Ryou?"

He stood up and approached the other boy cautiously, raised a hand, then let it fall again. Ryou nodded.

"Okay then. I'll – draw a bit."

"I'll be downstairs." He thought of something. "We'll have to share the couch, I guess..." Pegasus got the only bed after all, the bastard. "Don't use up the entire colour, we need that."

Ryou smiled again, his eyes soft from tiredness.

"Don't worry."

* * *

_(end of chapter nine)_

_Notes: The ring coming back shortly after Honda threw it away into nature happens during DK in the anime; the spirit possessing Ryou before he even gets the ring happens at the beginning of the AE in the anime__. Ryou hearing the spirit for the first time after meeting Yuugi is manga-canon, as is the spirit talking him into putting the ring back on, and Ryou running back towards Kaiba's tower to voluntarily get his ring back (though it's my invention that he gave it to Yuugi right after). Overall, manga!Ryou is a lot more friendly towards the ring than anime!Ryou..._

_God, I hope that's not completely confusing._


	10. Chapter 10

_Many thanks for the comments!_

_See chapter one for disclaimer._

* * *

Chapter Ten

_(In which some people might be less brilliant then they think.) _

The discomfort was what woke him up. His neck was craned in an awkward angle, his back was twisted as he was half lying half sitting up, one of his legs was hanging down over the edge of the couch, and there was a dead weight all over his other leg and up to his chest.

He blinked his eyes open sleepily, closed them again when they were met with sunlight, bright even though it was filtered by the room's thin curtains. He twisted around a bit; the chin on his chest was pressed closer against his body, and a hand ghosted up his arm, the one that wasn't trapped under his own body. Malik stayed still, and, ignoring his arching neck, raised his head so he could look down at the fluffy white head that was pushed against him; the hand closed at his shoulder.

"Hey," he said. "Which one are you, anyway?"

Something was telling him the spirit rather than the host, the boldness, maybe, because whoever it was, they were clearly not asleep: the arm that belonged to the hand now holding his shoulder was laying in a way that looked like it could not be intuitive, or thought up in a state of sleepiness.

The one who moved when Malik shook him gently and looked up was definitely Ryou; however, Malik decided, he had the familiar, confused, just-pushed-into-control expression on his face, even if it could also be that he was simply returned from mundane sleep and not possession.

"What...?" Ryou asked.

Malik let his head fall back against the arm of the couch, and watched as Ryou pushed himself up, seemed a bit panicked for a moment, then gracelessly rolled off him and onto the floor.

"No it wasn't," he muttered, even as he stood up.

"What wasn't?" Malik asked.

"It's him," Ryou explained, pointing at his chest, where the millennium ring must be hidden beneath his shirt, and stiffened a yawn. "I'm... going to take a shower."

Malik nodded, and lunged for the table by the couch, where he'd put his millennium rod, and held it close to his face. Calls to work, he mustn't forget about that, and some food to buy...

"I'm sorry for ruining your holidays," he told the rod just as Ryou reached the door; Ryou turned back round to look at him curiously. "I didn't really mean to drag anyone else into this, and I wasn't thinking..."

He trailed off and bit his lips; of all the things to apologise for; as if he hadn't dragged Pegasus into it a well, and all the other people they'd ran into only briefly; as if he didn't owe Ryou apologies for far worse things; and he had known, of course, or would have, if he'd given it any thought, it wasn't like Ryou's existence was news to him. But he'd dreamt about Rishid and Ishizu tonight, not nightmares, just pleasant dreams about family live, and he realised he was robbing Ryou of small, simple things.

"I probably couldn't have spent them doing what I want anyway," Ryou answered after a moment, and walked closer. "This way I'm not alone at least..."

He glanced down at Malik, who looked back, and for a moment they were only looking in each others eyes, certain than the next moment, there would be something there that would make everything easy...

Malik sat up.

"Alone?" he inquired.

Ryou didn't seem to see what he found strange about that, and just nodded, before leaving the room. Malik fell back onto the couch.

* * *

"A couple in Touhoku," Yuugi explained what he'd already told the other five people present in Kaiba's office, this time to Isis and Rishid on the phone. "They called this morning; they've lost account of three days, they think they must have been drugged, and they found that note in one of their books..."

"No, I don't want to get the police involved," Kaiba snapped impatiently from his desk, where he was on another line with Mrs. Kagawa; Mokuba, standing next to him, muttered something. "It might endanger the hostage – yes, I do know what I am doing. Now if you could get me a photograph or a scan of the message sent – this is very important – good."

He put the phone down almost at the same time Yuugi ended his conversation.

"They'll send a photograph," he told the others.

Anzu was sitting cross-legged on the chair across of Kaiba; Yuugi had sat down by the wall, on the floor, and now stood up to hand Anzu her mobile back; Jounouchi was nervously pacing the room, itching to touch or comment on Kaiba's decoration; most of it was simple, elegant black, but there was a suspicious amount of light blue all over, and an expensive looking figure of a familiar dragon on the desk; Honda was watching him, possible for exactly that reason.

Mokuba reached over his brother to turn the computer screen in front of him into his direction.

"You do realise," Kaiba added, "that I have better things to do?"

"Don't start," Anzu immediately told Jounouchi, who clapped his mouth shut without a word. "This might be our best way to find them."

"By showing up in one of Pegasus' estates? And not before ten days? It's clearly a trap."

He was looking at Yuugi, as if he hoped the other duellist must share this view of things.

"They sent it!" Mokuba interrupted before Yuugi could answer, and immediately went to print the document; the phone rang almost in the same moment.

"Yes, we received it," Kaiba said in clipped tones, and turned the screen back towards himself and stared at it. "Yes. I'm sure it will. Thank you very much for your help, Mrs. Kagawa." There was a longer pause. "Of course, Yuugi Motou will inform you."

"Inform her of what?" asked Jounouchi suspiciously when Kaiba hung up.

"They want to know what happened to Pegasus, if we find him," Kaiba told Yuugi, apparently of the opinion that Yuugi would be the one to take care of that.

"It is Pegasus then?" Yuugi – the other now – asked; they all closed around the desk.

"It's his handwriting, I'm sure of that," Kaiba said in an odd voice, and handed over the printed copy for inspection.

"Maybe they controlled him," Honda said, while Yuugi, after looking at it, passed the note to Anzu. "Made him write it."

"Or maybe Pegasus isn't a hostage at all," Mokuba chimed in hotly.

The other Kaiba crossed his arms and nodded.

"We have no reason to believe he isn't in league with them, or even behind it."

"So what," Jounouchi barged in. "You're just going to cross your arms and do nothing? Stop pretending you're helping to do anyone a favour, you want to know why they've stolen grandpa's card!"

"I never said I didn't," Kaiba said coldly, without deigning to look at Jounouchi.

"He says not before ten days in this," the other Yuugi said, crumpling the note in his hand. "If we don't come up with anything else by then, we don't have a choice."

* * *

"There," said Bakura, throwing the door open dramatically. "We get a _suite_. Good enough for you, Ishtar?"

"Considering I'm the one who got it for us, I don't see what you're acting so superior about," Malik said, while casually walking past Bakura and into the room.

He dextrously span the rod in one hand as he went through their place: two rooms and a large bathroom, one double bed, TV, a fridge, internet in the room, if you brought the computer; rich looking furniture, not that Malik was anything close to an expert, and carpets. It wasn't _that_ luxurious; without a doubt, Pegasus' place was going to be better.

"It's showy."

"We got the flights with this." He held up the rod. "I don't see why we shouldn't keep using it. You're just bitter because your item isn't as cool."

"Maybe I just want to let you do the work," Bakura threw back after locking the door behind himself.

Malik snorted in contempt at that weak excuse and, after tucking the rod away, drew back the curtains with a flourish; they were on the twelfth floor, and he couldn't make out much of the animated street beneath.

The last days had, in his opinion, been ridiculously fun; they'd gotten themselves a flight under false names to the USA through well applied mind-control – and a disguised Pegasus –, which had been difficult and all the more rewarding for it when they succeeded, and Pegasus was close to having finished. The only drawback was that he hadn't gotten to see Ryou very much during that time. But Bakura too had been surprisingly fun, in a creepy, I'm-glad-he's-on-my-side way.

"Don't get attached, we're not staying long," Bakura said from right behind him when Malik continued to stare out of the window.

"I know," Malik brushed him off, and closed the curtains again.

Bakura had chosen a place where he wanted to hold his ritual, and the unpleasant feeling somewhere in the pit of Malik's stomach – and which could be guilt, or fear, or maybe just doubt – occasionally crystallised into very concrete thoughts: he felt no true remorse for his part of the plan, but whatever Bakura was after, it could only be something dangerous; dangerous at the least for the pharaoh whom he couldn't stop hating, but whom he knew he owed...

"Having doubts again?" the thief murmured, having come very close once again without Malik noticing.

Malik stiffened in an effort to repress the sudden shiver that ran through him at that, and whirled round.

"No," he snapped. Bakura stepped back and gave him a doubtful look. "And if I do, isn't it in your interest not to encourage it?" he added, nastily, and went to close a hand around the millennium rod.

He didn't mean it, he realised even as he spoke, neither the menace, nor the pretence of feeling threatened. When they'd first met they had been dead serious; though Malik certainly would have been perfectly happy for the two of them to go on in their separate ways, what kind of an idiot steps in front of an oncoming motorbike anyway? But now – it was difficult to continue to think of someone as throughout evil when you spent almost twenty-four hours a day in their company doing relatively mundane things, in-between the dark magic, which the spirit didn't use any more than he did. And Ryou's presence, even when hidden, the fact that his friendly face might break through anytime, that didn't help either.

He'd been content with the fact that being around Bakura had something freeing; he hadn't yet entertained the notion that maybe he actually liked the spirit quite a bit. Total asshole that he was.

"I'm not encouraging them," the spirit answered softly; his eyes were riveted on the hand that held the millennium rod; Malik wondered if the spirit did take this confrontation for real. He certainly wasn't looking like he wasn't enjoining himself, in that slightly maniac way of his...

"Your host said you missed me," he answered.

Bakura's gaze went back to his face in a flash, and Malik had the satisfaction of seeing him look utterly surprised for a brief moment. So he didn't keep track of _everything_ his host said?

"He's projecting," Bakura then said, relaxing his stance, and with a casual shrug.

Malik leant back against the windowsill, letting go of the rod for now, and narrowed his eyes.

"What, _he_ missed me?" He'd been getting along with Ryou this time, but there was nothing in their previous encounter that Ryou could have missed.

The look Bakura was directing at him in answer was a bit strange; neither calculating nor mocking, nor malicious – interested. His tone, on the other hand, was nothing but bored, maybe a little condescending, when he replied:

"No. He misses things he's gotten used to."

"He misses _you_, you mean," Malik decoded, a little annoyed; he didn't find this to be a very convincing explanation; his presence could hardly feel to Bakura the way the spirit's must be to Ryou, and he trusted Ryou to be logical enough to know that.

Bakura shrugged, and changed the subject:

"Is it asking for too much to expect you to stay put for a while?"

Malik grinned at him, rather pleased with the irritated look that appeared on the thief's face in response.

"I'm going out. Shopping." He freed and spun the rod for emphasis. "Are you actually any good at stealing?"

Malik waited, poised, as Bakura narrowed his eyes in response; it looked like he was going to take the bait.

* * *

_(end of chapter 10)_

_Thank you for reading! The next update might take a little longer, because it's only partly written now, and I might not have much time. I'm sorry about that.  
And I hope that them getting past airport security happening off-screen wasn't a bad move. And that Kaiba & Co. part made some sense.  
I love reviews!_


	11. Chapter 11

_Sorry for the delay, and many thanks for the comments!_

_See chapter one for the disclaimer._

_

* * *

  
_

Chapter Eleven

_(In which the ring spirit is rather modest.)_

Ishtar was insane.

He'd always known that, but he hadn't yet had to acknowledge just how insane. The happy, maniac grin spread over the man's face as he lazily span a long silvery necklace on his index finger – it had been silver, more precious back in his Egypt than gold, and it made him uncomfortable that they'd both thought of it – and walked down the street, head high, back very straight, did nothing to weaken that perception.

The street itself was crowded and loud; the shops on each side of it were all expensive ones. A few people turned round to look at – _Malik_, most likely, not him, he looked inconspicuous in sweater and jeans, white hair hidden away under a scarf – as they walked by, but most ignored them, rushing past.

Malik finally caught his eye, and let the necklace wind itself around his finger, then made it disappear in a pocket of the long coat he was wearing (showy, that, dark lilac, with a hood, but at least it did mostly hide him – and Kaiba couldn't be everywhere). He followed the movement with his eyes, and Malik grinned again.

"You were right, you are rubbish at it," he said.

He found himself grinning back; no need to kill off Malik's fun, he became broody and doubtful whenever he had the occasion, and while he assumed that Malik was too compromised by now to go back to the pharaoh and offer his help in penance, there was no reason to take the risk; and playing back came very easily, more so than refraining from it. He couldn't tell if it was his host's influence, bits of him unshakably carved into the skin he wore. It didn't feel like it.

"I don't _need_ to be good," he threw back, showing teeth; the millennium ring glowed beneath his thin shirt, for emphasis.

He hadn't had to rely on petty theft for a very long time; and even back when he'd been alive, he'd been much better at violence than at subtlety. When he'd come to this life, he'd had the ring to deal with all the new electronic security; he'd never learnt to get around it with natural methods, and the two of them hadn't managed now. Which was fine by him. Like he'd said, they didn't need to. And for all his teasing, Malik didn't look like he minded overmuch either. The millennium rod, hanging on Malik's hip, was still emitting a faint glow. He wasn't sure Malik was even aware of it. It had been, _still was_ irritating, but the boy did seem quite good at controlling this one item.

They eventually reached a more remote area, between an abandoned playing-cage with broken basket-ball basks and a few public recycling containers. He leant against the wall, while Malik stayed beside him, looking around. The spoils of their expedition, hogged by Malik, didn't make a reappearance, but he didn't ask after them.

He turned back towards his companion when he heard him whistle through his teeth in appreciation; he was almost not surprised when he saw Malik standing by a motorbike that was chained to the cage. He didn't move, while Malik ran reverent hands over the engine; to him, the thing looked old and battered and not particularly worthy of admiration, but he admitted that he knew little about the subject.

He had to wonder about Ishtar though. The man could in no way be called spoiled, considering how he'd apparently spent his childhood, yet the entitlement he displayed was unbelievable. He was almost tempted to let out Ryou with instructions to tell the man about the poor person whose possession he was about to steal – because there was mistaking Ishtar's intentions, and someone so imminently capable of suffering from his conscience that he once created a separate entity to bear his own darkest thoughts and emotions couldn't possibly go around happily stealing without suppressing the thoughts of hurting anyone by it. Not that Malik had ever been innocent, but then, he was different from the person he'd been before Battle City, or at least wanted to be. It took a certain amount of mental acrobatics to cling to the notion of not being in open war with his pharaoh once again even while stealing from him and helping along his enemy.

"Can you steal that, at least?" Ishtar asked him, voice dripping with condescendence, and motioning the bike with his chin.

Bakura narrowed his eyes; he had no wish to give in to Malik's obvious attempts at manipulation, but his superior air could was getting annoying. Time for something showy then...

"Of course," he said. "Step back."

Malik looked confused until he took out his deck; then his eyes widened in realisation and he quickly obeyed, stood a few feet away from the engine, and crossed his arms.

"Man-eater bug," he said softly, even as he summoned the creature, and smirked wider when he saw Malik flinch and grab for the millennium rod. "Go on," he added aloud, unnecessarily, and purposely vague.

The creature obeyed, marched towards Malik and the motorbike, and snapped the chain that tied the engine with a single, quick gesture; Bakura had it turn to Malik briefly – the tombkeeper didn't flinch back, he had to give him that – before he made it vanish. Using shadow magic ate at his reserves, and while they were large, that was no reason to waste them.

"Show-off," Malik mocked; Bakura pushed himself off the wall easily, and only gave a thin smile in answer. "Come on then," Malik then added, while sitting on the bike, and caressing over the handlebars lovingly, and smiled back challengingly. "You can ride behind me."

That did take him by surprise: he'd expected Ishtar to drive away at once, maybe only briefly; Ishtar should know, he thought, that he wasn't going to expose himself to the man's crazy driving when he didn't have to. A car was bad enough. He said as much; Malik got a mulish expression on his face.

"Are you scared?" he tried.

Bakura snorted in answer.

"Of course I am," he said easily. "This body is fragile."

"Trust you to blame it on your host," Malik threw back. "_Come on_, Bakura. I'll be very careful, promise."

The attempt at goading was obvious, but he itched to give in to it all the same; the tombkeeper's air of superiority whenever he didn't was difficult to bear, as much as he told himself that it didn't matter, that the arrogance could even turn out to be useful to him.

Still, he crossed his arms.

"No," he repeated.

Malik sighed deeply, got off the bike and was in his personal space briskly.

"Come," he repeated, coaxing and a bit mocking still. "What if I get you a helmet? It's safer with a helmet."

He narrowed his eyes; Ishtar's face was only inches away from his, and he could feel his breath caressing his face, very fast from excitement; he hesitated, then gave in; he could feel his host at the very surface of consciousness, and pushed him back; it wouldn't do for them to switch during the ride, the brief disorientation could be fatal.

"Fine," he snapped. "Forget about the helmet."

Malik grinned brightly.

* * *

The world was flying by at high speed.

He had his arms wrapped securely around Malik's waist; at first, he'd sat back, holding his head up and feeling the wind wipe against his face, making the body's eyes water; now, however, he had moved to letting his cheek rest on Malik's back, and the lack of a helmet came in handy after all, while he saw houses and shops and park-fences pass him.

It would be lying to say that he wasn't a little worried – this was hazardous, he knew – but it was pleasant too. He thought he understood better now why Malik loved this, loved speed; the enthralling and completely illogical feeling of power even from being a passenger was wonderful. Like magic, only less goal-oriented, and wasn't that just like Ishtar.

His host was again hovering very close to consciousness, and this time he let him, hoping to share the feeling; it paid off, on the long run, to keep the host relatively happy.

They were in a less dense area now, with tall, thin houses instead of apartment buildings, and caged trees left and right. Malik took yet another turning while barely slowing down in the process; he shouted something at him too, but Bakura couldn't hear him, his words lost between the robe rolled up over his mouth and the wind. Bakura ignored it, and simply held on, until suddenly the bike slowed down, then came to a halt near the entrance to a playground, creating a huge sand cloud in the process. There was a strong scent of bark mulch in the air.

"What are we doing here?" Bakura asked, even as he climbed off the engine, and felt himself stagger as he did.

Malik smirked at him, and shrugged.

"Just wanted a pause." He flexed his fingers, then pulled the robes down from his face, freeing his mouth. Despite the disguise, Bakura could see the hair sticking to his face because of the sweat. Malik looked very alive and mischievous; it was a good look on him; he had to admit that he liked it much better than the culpable air he sometimes got, even if his preference was self-interested.

"We should be going back," he answered. "Do you think you'll find the way?"

He wasn't worried; the ring would find Pegasus, if everything else failed; and through all the pleasant haziness, he had paid attention to the way, and he had good orientation skills.

Malik smirked again and let the motor roar up, once, briefly.

"Would you?" he asked.

Bakura shrugged; if really Malik meant to strand him here, he was sure that he could hijack a ride, though it would be a hassle. But he'd found that letting others underestimate you could be more useful than the contrary; he had to admit, if did indulge in playing this game of boasting and intimidation with Malik, it had very little to do with practicality. And lately, he'd been thinking of very pleasant ways in which it could evolve – or be safely deviated.

"You're no fun," Malik complained, when he saw that he wasn't rising to the bait. "I _would_ leave you here, but I couldn't do that to Ryou."

It was strange, the ease with which Ishtar had settled for this name for his host; Bakura wasn't sure if he liked the idea of his host having his own, separate name. It wasn't worth arguing about though, not when "Ryou" himself seemed not to mind overmuch.

"You wouldn't do it to me either," he said confidently; frankly, he had the feeling that Malik had no idea what else to do with himself; not that it was very wise to goad him.

"You trust my driving now then? Since you don't want to be left."

An amused half-smile was his only answer to that, as if the notion itself were a jock; because really, he could hardly deny that, if he didn't trust Malik, he did at least take the risk of acting as if he did.

He wondered if Malik knew that they were flirting, in a sense; he had to be careful; taking him by surprise with any gesture would only spook him.

He tried stepping closer, up to Malik, who, sitting down, was smaller then him now; he'd memorised his scent by now, though it might be a while before he stopped associating him with the smell of gasoline. But maybe that was fitting.

Malik threw his head back and looked up at him listlessly, still smirking faintly, and the robes slid down, liberating his neck. Inviting, Bakura decided. Dangerous too, though the area seemed deserted.

He reached down and, in careful gestures, making sure to graze Malik's skin as much as possible, drew the lilac robes back up, over Malik's forehead and up to his chin; beneath them, Malik was wearing a simple, white shirt that left little of his skin exposed.

Malik let him; he was very still, and followed his movement with his eyes.

"Could I ride it?" he asked. Malik blinked, confused, and Bakura tapped against the front wheal of the bike with his foot for clarification. "Could my –" He interrupted himself and corrected: "Ryou?"

Malik sat back up and raised his eyebrows at him.

"Doubt it," he said, with less condescendence, Bakura guessed, than he would have if he hadn't mentioned his host. "But I can take us back."

He turned away briskly. Bakura nodded, still internally cautious, unsure whether Malik had caught on.

* * *

_End of chapter eleven._

_It was fun to write a little more from Bakura's point of view – I hope that it was somewhat believable. As always, comments are greatly appreciated._


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: I'm sorry for the long wait; life got in the way. :( Thank you if you're still sticking around!_

_Thank you very much for the reviews! I'm not certain now whether I sent replies to them (and I feel stupid doing so twice – especially since I suspect I'd write almost exactly the same thing twice, and I'd like to maintain the illusion that I'm not actually a robot...). If not, I apologise!_

_See chapter one for disclaimer._

_Without further ado:_

* * *

Chapter Twelve

_(-)_

He could feel Bakura's breath in his neck throughout the ride back to a street not far from their hotel; and even more acutely inside when he unlocked their door, warm and close, like a predator; or a lover. And that was deliberate, had to be, though to what purpose he wasn't sure. Part of him realised that he wanted it either way.

The long, empty corridor of their hotel had been dark; their room, with its wide windows Malik had chosen it for, seemed even brighter by contrast, and maybe the light made Malik act with even more energy when, as soon as the door had fallen closed behind them, he whirled round and pushed Bakura against the wall by the door with force.

Bakura held still, glanced briefly at the hands on his shoulders, one after the other, then back up at him.

There was a pause; Malik flexed his fingers slightly, put more weight unto his arms to hold Bakura down with more strength; Bakura tensed and relaxed under his hold, but made no movement to break it; instead he leant his head forwards slightly and said in a low voice:

"We're been tiptoeing around this for some time."

He looked cautious even as he said this, as if he wasn't sure of it himself, but with the last words he'd learn very close, his lips inches away; so Malik kissed him. Just a brief graze of lips against lips at first and, briefly, Malik thought of Ryou, but then Bakura kissed back, wet and warm, and closed his eyes while Malik stared, half in shock – he hadn't been certain that Bakura had _meant_ this until this very moment, though he was suddenly surprisingly certain about himself – and relaxed his grip.

Bakura sucked on his tongue with intent, and pushed him off; for a moment, they tried to hold on contact, lips locked; then Bakura gave up, their kiss breaking as the spirit swiftly turned them around and moved his body flush against his to hold him in place: the millennium ring's pointers jingled. Malik, after the first shock, tried to push the thief off, but Bakura held on, elbows planted right and left of him, body unmovable; there had to be a trick to it.

Bakura's grin was positively feral and the familiarity of it made Malik relax and smile as well. He kissed back when Bakura searched for his lips again, slowly this time, and felt arousal that seemed to start somewhere deep within. He leant back against the wall and breathed in deeply.

"You're ridiculous," he told the thief, even as he bucked up very slightly, for contact, not escape. He knew that condescendence annoyed Bakura even if the thief liked to pretend otherwise; and he wondered if that was new, or if he just hadn't noticed the first time they'd been associates. And, because it was a way to get back the upper hand: "We have a really expensive bed, you know." Bakura raised an eyebrow, then smiled even wider; it was an odd thought to imagine him being worried about rejection. "Well?"

To his surprise – to his disappointment, if he were honest – Bakura immediately let go, and, after a tug on his arm, moved towards aforementioned bed, where he stopped, turned, and raised his eyebrows; Malik narrowed his eyes and followed, in slow, easy steps; and it was gratifying to find that the thief was intently watching him, yet at the same time distracted enough for him to catch him by surprise when he briskly speed up with the last steps and, pushing him down, made both of them tumble onto the bed, a little harder than planned. Bakura let escape an undignified "ouf", and Malik chose to lick and bite faintly on the pale exposed neck which happened to be right under his mouth; the Bakura stilled at that, relaxed briefly before he made an attempt to throw him off, but Malik held on this time, put his whole body's weight into it – though that was for friction as much as anything else.

"You're better at fighting than at stealing," he mocked, when Bakura moved his head to give him an annoyed look, powerless.

"You got your motorbike, didn't you?" the thief threw back.

"What, are you planning to summon a monster to this?" Malik murmured.

Bakura's eyes narrowed dangerously at that, and then he smirked, and Malik just had time to wonder if he was really going to –

– and then Bakura was gone.

He noticed it in the sudden stiffness of the body beneath him, realising only in retrospective how perfectly it had, despite the apparent fight, been fitting against him, and then in the wide-eyed look that was suddenly in Ryou's eyes.

"Malik?"

"Oh God – Ryou." He scrambled backward and off him in shock, feeling cold and ridiculous and above all –

Ryou sat up, still looking confused, and tousled and disoriented.

"What's...?"

There was no warning, no discernable change and then suddenly Bakura was pouncing on him and had him pinned to the bed by both shoulder and was grinning victoriously.

"Get off," Malik snapped immediately, trying to push him aside; Bakura didn't move an inch. "Get _off_!" he hissed again, and shoved the spirit with both arms and with full force now.

In his surprise, Bakura held on violently for a moment, before he allowed himself to be pushed back and went to sit back on Malik's upper legs.

"What's – don't be such a sore loser," he snarled back, amusement gone.

"If you don't move I'll make you," Malik snapped, and demonstratively closed his fist around the millennium rod that was still hanging from his belt.

If he'd given it any thought, he would have realised that threatening him with shadow magic was probably not the most effective way to get the spirit to comply; but he wasn't thinking. The realisation of what he'd almost done has suddenly hit him; having sex with Bakura, not even thinking of Ryou – was that any different, any better than raping his unconscious body?

The faint glow on Bakura's chest brought him back to his senses to say, still harsh:

"This isn't your body. You have no right." Bakura's eyes widened, and at another moment, Malik might have been proud: it wasn't easy to catch him by surprise enough for him to let it show. "Now _get off me!"_

Bakura narrowed his eyes at him, but this time complied, and rolled over and sat, cross-legged, near the edge of the bed. Malik immediately drew his legs up to his body and draped his arms around himself in a defensive gesture, hand still firmly closed around the rod; not that he really expected Bakura to attack him; he just felt the need for comfort, and magic and power and his own body were better than nothing.

"The body is mine," Bakura said, cold and precise, after a brief silence.

Malik breathed in and out slowly to calm himself: as unpleasant as the resulting feeling was, he was much angrier with himself than with Bakura. And he wasn't in the mood for discussing it.

"Look, just leave it be, okay?" He hid his head behind his knees. "I shouldn't have started this."

Bakura looked at him speculatively for a moment; at another time, this might have worried Malik; now, he just stared into space and waited.

"So," said Bakura slowly. "If I weren't possessing this body...?"

That did make Malik pay attention; he wasn't sure why, but he found the idea of Bakura possessing _someone else_ horrifying...

"What are - ?"

Bakura smirked.

"Follow me," he said, and the ring glowed bright blue; Malik barely had time to see Ryou's body fall down sideward unto the bed when suddenly he felt the tug on his old connection with Ryou that he had established during Battle City; in his surprise – and maybe curious, after all – he gave in to it.

He didn't find himself in the bluish mist of nothingness where he had once met his partner in crime when they were separated yet needed to talk; instead, he was standing in a brightly lit room with stone walls, on a tick yellow carpet; the place was stuffed full of things, book-shelves only half filled with books, the other half being taken up by weird junk, painted plastic and wooden figurines of extravagantly dressed characters holding staffs or swords or spurting long beards, board games, various painting or handcrafting utensils; photographs too, one of which caught his eye immediately because he recognised everyone on it: Ryou, standing surrounded by Yuugi, Anzu, Honda and Jounouchi. The sight made him uncomfortable; he looked away.

Ryou was sitting on a large bed, next to a worn-looking toy tiger, one leg dangling down by the bed's side, and looking at him with wide eyes; and Bakura was standing, arms crossed and looking both smug and challenging, by the room's only door.

"What –" Malik began, though he was beginning to guess what this place had to be.

"This is my host's soul-room," Bakura confirmed, and strolled towards him with confident steps. "My body has as much reality as yours here." He tilted his head back, challenging.

Malik stared back, then turned towards Ryou, who had not moved and was looking back and forth between them, an unreadable expression on his face.

"He's staying here," Bakura added, categorical, and reached out towards him to pull a bit at the thread that joined the two parts of his light jacket; Malik hadn't even noticed that he was wearing the same clothes as in Battle City here. Bakura's finger traced light circles on the bare skin of his chest, and Malik briskly found himself wanting again, with more than pure lust. "Ignore him," Bakura added, and softly: "If you want."

Malik stepped back. He was saying – Wasn't this a worse violation, all things considered? He looked back at Ryou for help, but Ryou was looking at Bakura now, and there seemed to be a silent communication passing between them, for suddenly Bakura moved, in the same confident strides, towards the bed, leant over Ryou, tilted his head back and kisses him.

Seeing them both, separately, at once had been strange enough; _this_... Ryou certainly didn't seem to mind: he brought his arms up and around the spirit's neck; Malik stared, transfixed, at their joined lips which were moving with every sign of passion, making a wet, sucking sound in the process, and he felt something clench within him. Funny how he'd never fully realised that his anger at the way the spirit would speak about his host probably came down to jealousy, and not just to him liking Ryou better; he wasn't sure about that; but seeing them now, it was easy to feel left out.

Bakura was the one who broke the kiss; he straightened up; Ryou's arms fell down, and Ryou followed his dark's gaze when Bakura looked back at Malik, an eyebrow raised, as if in challenge.

"Have you done this before?" Malik asked.

It was difficult to imagine that they hadn't seeing how easily they seemed to fall into it, but you never knew with these two; and he felt that maybe Ryou at least might have told him.

On the other hand, maybe that would explain a lot about the odd kind of intimacy they seemed to share despite the disagreements, and Ryou's lack of simple animosity; or maybe it made it all more nonsensical, Malik wasn't sure at the moment.

"Mind you own business," said Bakura, in a rather kind voice, while coming back towards him. "Well?"

Malik caught his wrist, swiftly when Bakura raised it to touch his check, and then caressed up and down his inner arm with his thumb; but he was looking at Ryou. He wondered again if the spirit was afraid of rejection; it was difficult to imagine, even if you put it down to pride rather than love – or even lust – yet he had shown to be more human than Malik had thought...

"What about _your_ soul-room?" he asked, and not only because of Ryou; he was curious.

"No," Bakura said. "But if you want," he added, in a dangerous tone, and this time Malik looked back at him, "we can take this to our previous meeting place; if you think you can handle that much magic while having sex..."

Bakura actually saying it was oddly relaxing; still, Malik glared at him briefly: the challenge alone, the insinuation that he couldn't handle projecting himself into the nothingness skilfully enough called for a change of plans, but – if he was honest, Bakura was probably right to have his doubts. Last time, they'd been doing nothing but talk.

He let go of Bakura's hand, and, walking round him calmly, went to Ryou, who was still watching them silently; there was a faint blush colouring his cheeks. Here, maintaining physical reality and contact with the two of them took no effort at all, as if this were truly his body, taking existence within Ryou's mind, if you overlooked the impromptu clothes-change.

Ryou stood up as he approached; Bakura followed behind him, but made no move to stop him, so Malik deliberately ignored him, and looked Ryou square in the eyes instead, surprised by the sudden feeling of tenderness that flooded through him: never had his affection been so clear in his own mind...

"Are you –" he began, and stopped, and tried again. "I would, if you –" He took a deep breath. "Would you _mind_?"

Ryou lowered his eyes, glanced back up, sucked his lower lip in between his teeth; swallowed; the room seemed a bit hotter all the sudden; Malik couldn't tell if this was Ryou's feelings influencing it or just his own nervousness. Bakura, he could tell, was standing right behind him. He wondered if Ryou could even answer honestly – but he'd seemed puzzled by the very idea of the spirit hurting _him_...

"Only if you –" Ryou began, paused, added: "If you want to ignore me."

Malik sucked in his breath, and he felt himself smiling before he knew it.

"I really don't," he said, and if he hadn't been sure before, Ryou's answering smile – as timidly hopeful and glad as his must be – would have made him.

Behind him, Bakura said nothing, just draped both arms around him and kissed the back of his neck.

_

* * *

_

_(End of chapter twelve.)_

_I've had this bit in my head for so long that's it's even more difficult than usual to judge the product, so, you know, I love comments, as always. ^^_

_In the next chapter, more progress is made with Evil Plans than with relationships (they're probably skipped some important bits here). And it has been pointed out to me that we haven't had Ryou's point of view in a while, so it'll remedy that. Hopefully._


	13. Chapter 13

_Thank you very much for the reviews!_

_See chapter one for the disclaimer._

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

_(In which a long-awaited ritual doesn't quite have the effect Malik was expecting.)_

It was rather cold, that was the first thing he noticed when he came into control, standing on the patio of a large mansion that had something of a castle, with white walls and huge, rounded windows and two small statues of what he was pretty sure were duel monsters at either side of the entrance. The patio was in the centre of a part-like garden which was, in turn, entirely surrounded by large trees.

It wasn't the cold of winter, but a faint, rainy and resilient kind; maybe it should have given him a clue as to where in the United States they could be and where not, but he had long ago stopped to think about that kind of thing; it made his life seem much more fathomable and less out of his control to let space became something utterly abstract, with no connection between the amount he knew he had travelled and the amount of way his body covered.

Of course, now there was Malik to provide him with a little context, though he hadn't broken his word to the spirit and asked questions. They had not talked much, in his soolroom. They hadn't had sex all the time either; the silence, sometimes, was companionable, and whatever they could speak could not always be. That might have been why he and the spirit had started this, in their shared isolation. At least he liked this theory better than the idea that the spirit was only using him or trying to tie them to each other more surely.

He drew the long black coat closer around himself; the spirit had left it open; forever nagging him when he wasn't in control, he was noticeably careless about their body's wellbeing when he was. One could almost call it sweet, if one was a little bit insane and very desperate. Bakura thought that he might qualify.

He turned to Malik who was standing behind him, millennium rod in hand, though not glowing with obvious magic; he was dressed lightly and had to be cold. But it was Pegasus, strolling forwards to come to stand next to him, the protected painting tucked under the other arm, who explained to him where they were:

"Welcome to my castle," he said, and made a large gesture at the mansion; behind him, Malik snorted.

"Stay close," he warned; he looked worried. "Go on."

Pegasus gave him a look, then, in easy steps, went to the door; there was no key, it seemed; instead, he tipped a code on the small keyboard that was installed on the wall next to the door.

Malik didn't move to watch Pegasus; instead he came to stand next to him. Absently, he laid a hand on his shoulder: he was forever touching him when he was in control, since they had started what passed for a relationship. Bakura liked it, and had started to respond in kind: the simple comfort of physical touch was something he'd never had, in his long time alone with his demon.

"You don't know what he's up to, do you?" Malik murmured.

He meant the spirit. Ryou shook his head.

"He wouldn't tell me," he said softly, and leant his head light against Malik's shoulder; Malik let his own head rest against his, and drew an arm around him. "I don't think he wants to hurt us."

He was careful not to put any stretch on the "us"; maybe that didn't count as breaking his promise of making no attempt at turning Malik against the spirit, and he was more worried about that than before: he was as safe from him as a deadly weapon, but he had more to lose now from being banned away (he thought: they all did, the three of them; but the spirit might be too self-destructive to care).

He didn't have time to find out if Malik had caught his meaning; the door flew open grandly.

"Voila!" Pegasus said, and stepped aside and made a mockingly inviting gesture.

Ryou, looking around, picked up the heavy suitcase that was standing by him.

"You go first," Malik snarled; "and don't touch anything. There could be traps," he whispered at Ryou when Pegasus had walked ahead.

Ryou wondered why, in that case, he was the one in control; maybe the spirit thought that Pegasus would have scruples doing anything that might harm _him_. He had his doubts but then, he didn't know Pegasus well; the spirit had had more time to observe him.

They went through a first survey of the house without any incidents, however; Ryou had to relinquish control when the spirit meticulously searched through the room where he was planning on locking up the house's owner for any secret passages or other devices. When he came back into control, he found himself sitting on a soft red sofa in what appeared to be a large room all draped in rich red, from the wallpaper – which, on closer inspection turned out to be made of thin cloth threads – over the carpet to the elegantly draped curtains by the windows, from which one had a nice view to the large, park-like garden which he had seen earlier. It was much darker outside than before, however, so some time must have passed.

Malik sat on the sofa next to him and was smiling.

"Hi!" he said, and gestured at the low round table by the sofa, where someone had arranged large quantities of cake. "I figured you'd be hungry."

"Uh, yes," he admitted. "Thanks."

He found himself smiling back; the spirit was often comfort as much as danger; but in his moments of return to consciousness, Ryou had often been alone, and after the warmth of a room shaped to his very soul, the brisk change had never been pleasant, though he'd gotten used to it. Maybe he was being unfair: once, when it had mattered, on the Battle City ship, the spirit had been there to shield him, while Malik had shoved him away into danger, alone. But – well. Small gestures and repentance had to count for something?

"You're welcome," Malik said, still smiling, while he began to eat; the cake had been frozen and was still cold, but he didn't mind. "We made the card," he added, a little later, when Ryou's worse hunger was stilled; he sounded cautious now, and Ryou could feel his spirit on the edge of control, attentive. "Do you want to see it?"

"I – don't think so," he answered, leaning back and looking at Malik. He wasn't supposed to ask, but he had to know: "What – how's Pegasus?"

"He's fine," Malik said quickly, and swallowed. "He banned him into his soul-card again, but it's not – It's safe."

He trailed off. Ryou nodded.

"That's good," he murmured. "And now?"

"I'll – sell the card," Malik said, a little unsure. "After – whatever it is he's after. That's the plan, anyway. And – I don't know."

Ryou looked away; he hadn't been thinking as far as after his spirit's ritual took place, other than in worrying about the danger he would be to Yuugi and the others (and to himself, he remembered, with some delay). But it was true than then, the partnership would be over. And then what? Malik made his spirit more human, and that too would be gone, and he would miss him.

"Will you come to my soulroom?" he asked; there would be warmth and closeness and peace there. Malik looked him square in the eyes even as he grabbed the rod and began to vanish; Ryou waited until he was gone, felt his presence, next to his spirit's, comforting and new, before he followed.

* * *

Bakura had chosen the cellar of Pegasus' mansion for the place where the ritual would take place; no natural light, he'd explained when Malik had asked, though apparently the huge electric lamps were no hindrance. The room was large and otherwise completely empty, and looked like it had never been used for anything at all.

Malik, in truth, had briefly considered running once the card was complete; he had menaced to do as much when Bakura produced the millennium eye, which he had failed to tell him about, and that was an unwelcome reminder of the fact he was willing to rip out someone eye to get their millennium item. But, aside from all the other reasons, he was curious, and, absurdly, he felt part of this. Besides, the card wasn't complete, as far as he was concerned: Bakura, possibly foreseeing his reluctance, had insisted that the microchips would only be installed afterwards.

He watched from the sidelines as Bakura drew a pentagram on the floor with chalk, then placed a candle on each extremity of the star. Then Bakura took the now complete Blue Eyes White Dragon card, and placed it carefully in the centre of pentagram; then he stepped out of it, looking grim and exited at once, and placed himself on the opposite side of the sign.

"Well? Come on then, get ready."

He had to do nothing but concentrate the rod' energy onto the card in the middle once Bakura told him to; but he'd expected there to be more.

"That's it?" he asked, wielding the rod.

"There's a spell," Bakura said. "I'll say it; when I say _now_, you start."

"I remember," Malik said, but returned the spirit's slightly maniacal grin. "Go on."

Bakura began to chant.

After only four words whose meaning Malik, despite his best efforts, couldn't make out – Bakura's singing voice was barely above a whisper – the lamps flickered and, instants later, went out; Malik shivered: he hated the dark. He concentrated on the light of the candles, which, as Bakura went on – and his voice became gradually louder – began to flicker upwards, higher and higher, to a thin thread of fire; the only other light came from Bakura's millennium ring, which glowed bright blue, and Malik worried for a moment that he'd missed the signal.

Only after he got used to the dark and the brief panic ebbed away did Malik become aware that he could understand some of the words: the ancient tongue he had learnt in his own childhood, though slightly different, like distorted. _Spirit raised from the grave made flesh, soul made fire made flesh made fire and lightning... _As he spoke, a large, dark shadow grew behind him; the larger it grew – and the more used Malik became to the surrounding darkness – the clearer he could see it: a head with horns on it, a strong torso, and then a moving snake as a tail; Malik was so entranced by the picture that he almost missed his cue.

"Now," Bakura said, his voice a low, insistent hiss.

Malik raised his arm and concentrated with all his might on the card, which just at that moment had started to glow; as soon as he directed his magic onto it, the five flames drew together above it, mingled into a bright white storm, before calming and condensing in an opaque form above the card. Through its brightness, he could no longer make out Bakura or the shadow behind him.

And then, the bright silhouette slowly took shape, its blinding light dimmed, replaced by colour, human skin and human hair, and –

The girl was floating in the air, her pale and naked body curbed backwards so that the long, colourless hair fell down behind her, almost touching the floor. Still surrounded by a circle of white light, beautiful, displayed and surreal, she seemed to be coming right from the cover of a cheep fantasy novel.

Malik stared at her in total shock, even as the brightness vanished, and the five candles went back to normal. What in the name of all gods...?

"_This_ is why you wanted the card and a second millennium item?"

He received no answer, and angrily turned toward the spirit.

But it wasn't the spirit who looked back at him; Ryou, possibly looking even more confused than _he_ probably was, stared back at him with wide eyes that didn't seem to see him; he was looking at a spot to his left, and his mouth gaped open and closed without a sound; the millennium eye, which the thief had been holding in his hand, had fallen to the floor and rolled away.

"Bakura?" Malik repeated, and felt fear chill up inside him, the clear impression that he was the victim of some mystification. What had Bakura done? He took a tighter grip on his rod, ready to launch an attack. "What the –"

"There!" Ryou managed to say, in a feeble voice.

Malik followed his gaze: it was something in the very back of the room, to Ryou's left, farther away from the pentagram than Bakura had been, a human form clenched together, much like the girl's in front of them, who had slowly been lowered to the floor at well. Even in the faint light, Malik could make out the pale hair...

Ryou seemed to have recollected himself, and resolutely stepped towards the figure; Malik opened his mouth to tell him to stop and wait, but the words died in his throat: he could recognise the figure more clearly as he began to get used to the darkness that was following the blinding brightness from the spell, and...

"This can't be...?"

Without thinking, he had approached it as well, and was looking at the body from over Ryou's shoulder.

"It's him," Ryou answered his incomplete question decidedly. "Him as he was in his previous life."

* * *

_Dun dun duuun!_

_...sorry._

_As always, I love hearing from readers. In the next chapter... Malik is surprised to get any answers at all._


	14. Chapter 14

_Many, many thanks for the comments!_

_See chapter one for disclaimer._

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

_(__In which at least some people are surprisingly happy.)_

Malik glared down at the fallen form, as if angry about its mystery.

"How do you know?" he asked; he'd made his peace with the fact that there were things about the two of them that were just strange and you had to leave it at that, but at the moment he had little sympathy for mysteries.

"Sometimes – I see his dreams," Ryou said, softly, then leant over the form on the floor. "Spirit?"

"Do you know her as well then?" Malik asked, pointing at the girl.

"I've never seen h –"

The person on the floor, who Malik supposed had to be Bakura, groaned loudly, rubbed their head, and began to unbend with the slow air of someone who has recently gotten a painful and disorienting blow on the head. The millennium ring, still hanging from Ryou's neck, glowed strongly as if in answer.

"No," Ryou said next to him, to something Malik hadn't heard. "It's mine, you know."

The man slowly stood up, and Malik couldn't help staring at him in all his naked glory; Bakura, more muscled, a little taller, short white hair, a scar under one eye – he had been hot in his previous life. Not that he wasn't in this one.

"What did you _do_?" Malik asked.

"It is mine," Bakura answered, looking at Ryou; his voice way weak and rough, like it hadn't been used in a long time. "More so than you could ever comprehend."

Ryou crossed his arms over his chest and the ring protectively; Malik, still very much confused, hoped that they weren't going to fight for it: he had no idea with whom he was supposed to side.

But Bakura didn't dive for the ring; the glow died down, and the thief pushed both of them aside to walk over towards the centre of the pentagram, where, collapsed over the Blue Eyes White Dragon card, laid the woman.

"Damn it," Bakura muttered, at he stomped towards her with obvious frustration.

Ryou ran after him quickly, and Malik followed.

"This isn't what you were trying to do?" he asked; Ryou kneeled down next to her and checked her pulse.

"She's alive," he murmured.

"Of course it isn't!" Bakura snapped.

"Is it someone from your past?" Malik tried.

"Will you stop asking stupid questions?" Bakura snarled at him.

Malik recoiled; he had never seen the thief this uncontrolled and agitated; even when his own dark side had slowly erased him from existence, he hadn't been. Something must have gone seriously wrong with his plans. That, or it was the new body; that had to have an overwhelming effect, though Malik himself had taken to wearing Anzu's pretty well when he'd had to.

"No," Bakura said coldly. "She's..." He kneeled down next to her as well, and shook her without gentleness.

"Don't –" Ryou tried. Bakura ignored him; the woman's head bumped against the floor. "Stop," Ryou repeated; Malik stepped forward unsurely, but he didn't need to intervene; Ryou laid his hands on Bakura's; they both stared down at their joined hands for a moment, very still, before Bakura swiftly moved back, then stood up. Ryou cradled the girl's head on his lap.

"Was this part of the plan?" Malik asked and motioned Bakura in a grand gesture; and with a half-smile, he added: "Because I think I like it."

Bakura's whirled round and looked at him as if he were surprised by his very presence; then, slowly, when Malik was beginning to feel out of place again, he grinned; the face was new, and the different, grey eyes would take some getting used to – assuming this was permanent – but the grin was the same as before.

"Thank you."

"Oh sure." Malik crossed his arms. "Accept the compliment and don't answer the question."

Bakura's grin vanished, and he pressed his lips together.

"This wasn't planned," he said at last, much to Malik's surprise: he hadn't really been expecting an answer.

"Uh, sorry to hear that?" Malik offered; he looked, searching for help, at Ryou; the latter was delicately holding the girl's head, but looking at them, and smiling faintly, and his smile widened when Malik met his eyes.

"Can we..." Ryou said, then trailed off. Carefully, he extracted himself from under the girl and came towards them; in front of Bakura he stopped, and raised both hands the his face, touched it delicately, as if he were blind and had to learn his features by touch.

Bakura stood still; but, after a few moments of slowness, Ryou instead drew both arms around him and kissed him; and Bakura too enlaced him and held him close, with force, and maybe, Malik thought, watching, they were trying to remerge into one.

"Do you... want me to leave you alone?" he asked.

He had meant for it to sound sarcastic, but instead it came out weak and a little sad, rejected.

They broke the kiss but not their embrace, and stared at him.

"Don't be stupid," Bakura said, surprisingly softly; his voice had already gained in strength.

"No, we don't," Ryou said, and looked at him worriedly, and Malik hadn't known how much it would pain him to lose this until then. "It's just – this is strange." He pressed the thief even closer, as if not entirely sure that he was there.

"It will be even stranger when you betray me to them and they defeat me, host," Bakura drawled.

"Stop that," Malik stepped in, without being completely certain what the spirit meant; he came towards them, and as soon as he was in reach Ryou held out a hand and, when he took it, drew him close.

He found himself suddenly between them, Bakura – as tall as he was now – breathing onto his neck, Ryou's mouth right under his, both their bodies pressing against him, and whatever he had expected of Bakura's accursed ritual, this wasn't it. He kissed Ryou, softly, and shivered when Bakura kissed his neck. As real as it had felt, their time together inside Ryou's soul-room had had something eerie, which this no longer had; absurdly, as Bakura moved his head downward and even though both of them had traced every line of his scars, he felt suddenly self-conscious about his back. (The few times he'd had sex before them, he never had he been naked.)

"We –" Ryou interrupted himself by kissing him. "We need to do something about _her_."

"Right," Malik murmured against his lips; who (or what?) ever she was, he didn't want to be directly responsible for anyone's death. "Bakura."

Reluctantly, the thief stepped back.

"She mustn't die," he agreed coldly.

"Who is she, then?" Malik asked, wandering back to her, Ryou by his side.

"We'll see when she wakes up," was all Bakura answered.

He went, not to the girl, but to where the millennium eye had rolled to, and picked it up. Malik followed, and waited if maybe Ryou would put up a fight for it as well, but Ryou ignored them, his attention back to the girl.

"Are you planning to...?" Malik gestured at his own eye and mimicked pushing; Bakura grimaced, and pocketed the eye.

"Maybe," he answered, looking grim. "Not now," he added, annoyed, when Malik looked disgusted in answer. "Come on, we need to get her upstairs."

The "come on" was unnecessary, as he was the one who picked her up, bridal style, and surprisingly careful, and led the way; Ryou and Malik stayed behind, and looked at each other; then Ryou took his hand.

"I'm glad you're here," he confided, and squeezed.

"I love you," Malik answered, because he did, and maybe it bore saying, then added, quickly switching subjects when Ryou stared up at him: "Do you think this really wasn't planned?"

"I'm not sure," Ryou admitted, and pulled his hand, urging him to follow Bakura upstairs; Malik let himself be led. "I don't see why he would – _I_ haven't been able to hold him back since that first time. And you said he wants the dragon."

"That's what he told me. That would have made _sense_."

Ryou nodded thoughtfully; they had reached the top of the stairs, and the faint light from the already low sun was a welcome change. Despite the confusion and the incertitude, they smiled at each other as they walked on.

* * *

Bakura was sleeping peacefully by his side.

The room, one of the smaller ones, was faintly lit by a small lamp by the bedside; the bed itself was softer and more luxurious than anything he had ever known, and more than large enough for three people. He was naked, but the temperature was agreeable in the whole mansion and he wasn't cold.

_Bakura was sleeping peacefully by his side._

He turned the phrase over in his mind; but it was still wondrous. The connection between their minds was still there, but feeble and thinning, and that was frightening, despite the freedom it offered. But for Bakura to be there, to be real, in flesh, not only within the embodiment of his mind!... He had, even after all this time, sometimes wondered if the spirit was a hallucination, nothing but a manifestation of his own insanity; and while the presence had always been too overbearing for him to truly believe that, it was still wonderful for him to have gained this reality, physical, independent of him!

Bakura. He was willing to give him his name, which Malik had so easily cut apart for them. He was family, in a sense, and stolen as the name might be, the spirit had worn it; and Ryou suspected that he had no memory of the own name he'd once had. So that was alright.

Maybe he was hopeless, for not hating the spirit that had stolen away his life and was still bound on destruction, who had threatened every stranger that had crossed his path; but he'd seen the memories of blood and fire in his other's mind, and – but that was an excuse, the real reason lay in the inescapable closeness which Malik had breached enough to let them meet, instead of losing themselves in each other. If he could be certain that the spirit hadn't pretended this whole time...

Malik was lying by his other side, body drawn together slightly, moving now and then in his sleep – he had nightmares, he'd confided once when they'd been in his soulroom. Less now, he had added. Ryou smiled, and reached out to both sides to be able to touch them both.

* * *

Malik awoke to annoying bird-twitter and Bakura playing with the pointers of the millennium ring.

He sat up with a start; judging by the light it was early in the morning, but he felt no longer tired. And seeing Bakura sitting cross-legged on the bed, on the other side of Ryou's sleeping form and holding the ring in his hands, he suddenly wasn't so sure if it was a good idea to sleep in the spirit's – former spirit's – presence, now that his assistance was no longer needed. Distrust no longer came as naturally as it used to.

Quickly, he rolled to the side and over the side of the bed, where his clothes lay, and, among them, the millennium rod; it was where he'd left it. He heaved a long sigh.

"They have to be won or given, you know," Bakura's voice came from behind him, and Malik rolled back round and towards him. "Cutting your throat while you sleep and taking it doesn't qualify."

"Could you _not_ mention cutting my throat as long as _we're_ sleeping together?" Malik snapped, even as he stared at the thief; he wouldn't stop doing that for quite a while, he suspected, though he'd became very familiar with this new body last night. He reached down beside the bed to retrieve his pants. They'd need to find clothes for Bakura, he supposed. "Why do you have this then?" He motioned the ring the thief was holding with his chin.

"It is mine," Bakura said coldly; but, to Malik's surprise, he then laid the ring gently onto Ryou's chest.

"Why?" asked Malik, after he was at least partly dressed. "His father gave it too him, you know." Ryou had told him that, in his soulroom.

"They killed my whole village and moulded their ashes into gold. I, and this –" He motioned the ring, then the rod (Malik closed his fist tighter around it, instinctively). "– is all that's left of them."

He stood up.

Malik was too dumbfounded by Bakura actually telling him anything about his past to comprehend the content of it for a moment. When he did, he stood up as well. Ryou shifted in his sleep but didn't wake up.

"Really?" Malik went toward Bakura. "You know, I spend my whole childhood learning about the nameless pharaoh and the items, and they never told me about that part. It figures."

Bakura turned to him, surprised, and then smiled.

"So," Malik added, grinning back, "what's the next part? It's not me giving you the millennium rod, in case you wondered."

Bakura actually rolled his eyes, which was a bit rich, coming from someone who ripped out people's eyes and tried to kill them.

"We wait until the girl wakes up. Until then..." He shrugged, and then glanced from him to Ryou; Malik didn't stop grinning.

* * *

_(end of chapter fourteen)_

_Having sex is a perfectly reasonable reaction to someone suddenly gaining a new body!__ :p_

_The next chapter is already written, but after that there's a void, so I'm not sure how fast I'll update. It's slowly nearing the end, actually._

_Please tell me what you think!_


	15. Chapter 15

_Thank you very much for the reviews!_

_See chapter one for disclaimer._

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

_(In which Malik is jealous__.)_

Malik narrowed his eyes; from where he was, he had a clear view to the place where Pegasus was sitting, on the balcony, while he was himself hidden from view. Not that it mattered: neither the millionaire nor his guest seemed to care whether they were being watched or not.

Pegasus was comfortably leaning back in his chair, smiling his crazy smile, and waving around so that Malik was surprised (and disappointed) that the wine in his glass hadn't been spilled all over him yet. Clearly, the inventor of duel monsters (Malik snorted even while thinking this: making all this money with a thousands of years old game that he'd ripped off!) had a lot of practice with this.

The young man who was sitting across of him, very straight on his own chair, as it could be expected from a polite visitor, only leaning forward from time to time, was not paying attention to anything but Pegasus' words either. Malik could occasionally catch sight of his face, which was showing this mixture of cheerfulness and seriousness he had never seen on anyone else (at least he didn't want to think that it bore some resemblance to Pegasus' expression).

The guest had a glass of apple juice standing in front of him, but hadn't touched it since the two of them had started their conversation, which seemed like hours ago. Malik liked to think that he was smart enough not to drink anything Pegasus had given him; he was quite aware, however, that it had probably more to do with the fact he was too caught up in their conversation to care about anything at all, drinking included. At least he'd outright refused alcohol.

As much as he tried, he didn't manage to understand what they were saying: he managed to catch a few isolated words from Pegasus high-pitched voice, but not a tone from Ryou's soft voice carried over to him.

"Could you stop staring at them just for five minutes? I know that my former host is quite entrancing to look at, but I haven't changed that much..."

Under the teasing tone, there was a hint of real irritation. Malik blinked, and slowly turned his head away from the scene on the balcony to look around himself, seeming to only slowly realise where he actually was: he was half sitting half laying on a large, comfortable pile of pillows, in an rather large and nice room, if you could call the disturbingly childish nature of most decorations, from Funny Bunny posters to masses of stuffed animals "nice". The semi-obscurity of the room was contrasting with the bright light outside, offering at least some excuse for the fact that Malik needed this long to again become aware of his surroundings.

The excuse did not, however, work for his total obliviousness to the hands that were drawing small circles on the back of his neck, and the body right behind himself, and which was touching him whenever he was making the slightest move, which, admittedly, had not been very often, entranced as he had been, indeed, by the object of his observation.

Malik finally locked gaze with the man behind himself, and repressed a wince as he met his stone-grey eyes, looking down upon him. He'd had time to get used to the thief's new (old, whatever) form, but sometimes, he was still disturbed by it, especially in moments like this: Bakura, kneeing up behind him, was towering above him: as usually, his chest was bare, his physical strength very obvious, and this was not something Malik was used to.

Bakura had always been a dangerous adversary, skilled as he was on controlling shadow magic, and practically impossible to truly kill, but he had never been stronger than him, physically. Of course, as he was a spirit who possessed no physical form whatsoever, this was quite evident and quite irrelevant, but even when Malik had met an illusion image of him in Ryou's soul room, or when he'd been in control of Ryou's body, he had been weaker, and Malik had sort of preferred it that way.

Not that it really mattered, because Bakura could hardly be called an adversary anymore: since the ritual, he was acting quite out of character: firstly, he'd been quite horny. A lot. Malik supposed it wasn't such a weird reaction to getting your own body after such a long time, and he wasn't really complaining (he'd never said that he _disliked_ Bakura's new body!), but the same couldn't be said about the other major change, or at least Malik couldn't see any reason for a connection: the ex-spirit had also become weirdly nice.

Not really nice, of course. But, by crazy-spirit-standards, he was being quite friendly. He had given in when Ryou had begged him to free Pegasus from the card and leave the man some freedom (Malik began to regret he had pleaded and threatened with Bakura to agree). Malik had found this rather suspicious, if pleasant, and would have worried about it more, if he hadn't found something different to be worried about...

"I don't like being ignored," the thief murmured into his ear, managing to sound both menacing and seductive.

A few days ago, Malik would have rolled his eyes; now he didn't even bother doing as much, and simply turned his head back toward the balcony. Ryou was nodding at something Pegasus had said.

"They're here since midday," he murmured. "What the hell can they be talking about for so long?!"

"Death..." Bakura was running his fingers up and down his neck while speaking, making him shiver despite of himself; Bakura – or he, depending on how you looked at it – had an unfair advantage ever since he had his new body, as he knew all of Malik's sensitive spots, while his body was entirely new to discover. "Afterlife. Spirits."

He sounded smug.

"You do realise," Malik snapped, "That this doesn't include _you_ anymore?"

Bakura's fingers went still for a moment.

"My host can hardly talk about his knowledge of the supernatural without talking about _me_..."

Malik made an impatient gesture, and turned round, irritated, when Bakura laughed softly behind him.

"You're jealous," the thief said, amused, and let his hand fall down.

"Like you're not," Malik hissed in return, not bothering trying to deny.

"Ryou can't leave me," Bakura replied haughtily.

"You're separated. He can now."

"We're still connected," Bakura snapped back.

Malik made a doubtful face, but decided not to argue.

"Aren't you going to tell us what it is you want from the girl?"

The girl. Pegasus had set her up in a room that had something of a hospital, all white and with an apparatus to monitor her health. There was nothing wrong with her, it seemed; she had woken up several times, just long enough to ask for water and collapse again. Bakura had been surprisingly open with information on other accounts, but he insisted that he didn't know who she was. Malik didn't believe him: why would he be sticking around, if he didn't have the slightest idea? There had to be a reason why he still hoped to gain something from her.

Bakura rested his chin on his shoulder.

"Are you using the royal 'we'?"

"I mean me and Ryou."

Of course, that didn't explain why _he_ was still sticking around. He hadn't insisted on them making Pegasus complete the card for him. He hadn't made a run for it, now that Bakura no longer needed him and could become more dangerous than before. Instead, he had let the days trickle away, one after the other, peacefully, between his two lovers, and acknowledged no shadow but Ryou's insistence on leaving them to chat with their hostage.

In answer, Bakura turned away from him, then glanced up.

"He's coming," he said; Malik followed his gaze and found Ryou walking up to them; Pegasus was still sitting on the balcony, sipping his wine, looking like he had not a care in the world.

"Hi," Malik said, a little acidly, when Ryou sank down on the cushions next to them. He had to admit, he looked better than he used to, less subdued, like Malik had only seen him a few times in the throes of passion; and maybe that one time, when he'd roleplayed during their card game; and while Malik was glad of the change, it was an uncomfortable reminder of the fact that he was – had been this whole time – as much their prisoner as Pegasus was, and that, despite his adaptability, this bit of escape he'd been granted, the freedom to talk to someone else, was good for him.

Ryou leant against Bakura, who immediately let go of Malik to run his hands up and down Ryou's body; they still seemed surprised, almost every time anew, at their being separate, not only Ryou, but Bakura as well, and Malik found that he wasn't jealous of this bond he couldn't share. It was strange, though, to see the former spirit look at the one who had been his host with this kind of fascination. Malik had intercepted that look – full of want and almost fearful – a few times, and found it so unlike Bakura that he had wondered if the new body had fundamentally changed him.

"Is something the matter?" Ryou asked, and Malik turned around so he could face the two of them.

It was Bakura who answered, his hands stilling, still drawn around him:

"You're getting awfully close to Pegasus."

Ryou glanced from him to Malik, a little confused; not worried, though, and Malik was glad of that, that he didn't think their displeasure was something to fear. Of course, Ryou had grown to have strange notions about that.

"He knows a lot," Ryou explained. "He's read so many texts – in the original – about different beliefs about the afterlife."

Malik bit down a pout. He could read ancient Egyptian in the original, better than the most learned modern expert, certainly better than Pegasus, was that worth nothing?

"He still failed at what he wanted," Bakura remarked, but without harshness; his hand had stilled on Ryou's chest, where, hidden under his shirt, the millennium ring had to be.

"I didn't say he didn't," said Ryou, a little cross. "Did you check on Kisara?"

Kisara. That was the woman's name, though only Ryou had been present – sitting by her bedside – when she had said so.

"An hour ago," Bakura said, signing at Malik with his chin.

"She was the same," Malik explained.

"I'll go check on her," Ryou said, and detangled himself from Bakura, smiled at them both and stood up; Malik stared after him, a little helpless; he wanted him freed of the ring and he wanted him here; and he wanted Bakura whole too, and he wasn't sure if that was possible without the magic.

That made him think of something.

"Are you even still trying to collect the millennium items?" he asked detachedly, glancing back at Bakura.

"What is it to you?" Bakura asked, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

Malik shrugged.

"Do you know the holder of the key and the scale then?"

"Of course I do," Bakura snapped. "I know the location of all millennium items."

"Do you?" Malik asked sceptically. "Well, his name is Shadi."

"I know," Bakura said, with an exasperation that made Malik immediately doubt the veracity of that claim; he leant back on the cushions comfortably; he no longer was facing the balcony, and could pretend Pegasus wasn't there.

"Are you planning to go after him then?"

"Why?" Bakura repeated.

Malik shrugged casually.

"Just wondering..." He smiled. "Because if you do, I'd gladly offer my help..."

"Like I'd need your help."

Malik repressed a sigh.

"Yes, you already said that," he answered, with emphasised patience. "I didn't say you'd need my help. I said I'd gladly give you a hand..."

Bakura cooked his head to the side, intrigued.

"You're saying you want to help me get the items? What happened to your gratefulness to your pharaoh?" The sneer, as he said those words, was, as far as Malik could guess entirely unintentional and the hate genuine; so much for there being any chance of reconciliation.

"Help you _find_ them. Shaadi is evil," Malik argued, sounding more confident than he was. "And Yuugi and the pharaoh would have to hunt him down eventually anyway."

Bakura stretched out his legs, and pushed lightly against Malik knee with his toes.

"He's one of your people, you know."

"Yeah, well." Malik looked at the ceiling. "So was I."

Bakura's mouth twitched; he was smiling.

"I'll keep the offer in mind," he promised. He pushed himself up. "I'll go check on Ryou, and her. Keep an eye on him," he added, motioning Pegasus with his chin.

* * *

Bakura – that was, his other, this Bakura – moved silently; it was something he had mastered over very little time, and one of the details Ryou stored away, in his mind; out of habit, perhaps, because things could always be lost, and they were easier to find again, in the meanders of his mind, when they had been previously ordered.

He only became aware of his presence when a hand was laid on his shoulder, and then Bakura was there, next to him; he turned round to meet his lips, and automatism, and they kissed, slow and long and deep; Ryou loved that he could recognise them both by the way they kissed, more so than before, in his soulroom: Malik had become familiar already back then. But his other, he had only realised in retrospective, had always held back a little, until now.

"Still asleep?" Bakura asked softly, looking at the pale girl, motionless on her white bed; Ryou nodded, and looked down at Bakura hand when he laid it on his chest; above – "Would you leave, if it weren't for the ring?"

Ryou looked up at his face, but it was expressionless.

"I would warn Yuugi," he answered; that was something he clung to, had to, or he would be swept away and have switched sides a long time ago; maybe he could ask Malik to warn Yuugi for him. Malik would say yes, now, he was almost certain of that, and maybe that was why he hesitated, because he wanted back to life, but he wanted this too.

When, as if in response, Yuugi's voice rang in his ear, he thought it a hallucination, brought on by his thoughts; it was only when Bakura's hand tensed on his chest that he realised that it must be real. Briskly, both of them jumped towards the window – the sick room was on the second floor – and there they were, coming down the way through Pegasus' park towards the patio, Yuugi, Jounouchi, Honda, Anzu, Kaiba, followed by two other people who seemed familiar as well.

Next to him, Bakura cursed loudly.

* * *

_(end of chapter 15)_

AN: I've been looking forward to this bit: they're together, there's time, they have convenient separate bodies – and then Ryou wanders off to make friends with Pegasus. XD

A reviewer asked whether I meant for Bakura and Ryou's relationship to come across as stronger than the one Malik has with either of them. The answer is – well, no, I didn't mean for it to seem like Malik is being left out, but I did mean for Ryou and Bakura to have a particular bond that Malik can't be part of; but in my mind, that's not a completely positive thing, since it could simply be the consequence of them happening to have shared a body, while Malik has been chosen and chosen himself to a greater extend. If that makes sense.

I'm sorry, but it will probably be a while before the next chapter is posted; I haven't written much of it yet, and life's a little busy. Then again, maybe that'll mean I'll procrastinate by writing.

As always, I love to hear from readers!


	16. Chapter 16

_When I said the next update would take longer, I didn't originally mean _this_ long. I'm sorry for the delay! Thank you all very, very much for the reviews!_

_See chapter one for disclaimer._

_

* * *

  
_

Chapter Sixteen

_(__In which only one person is knocked unconscious.)_

Malik had just returned from locking up Pegasus, and was about to sit back down on his cushion and wait for the other two to return, when Bakura barged in, dragging a reluctant-looking Ryou behind himself, and saying two words:

"The pharaoh."

Malik stared at them. Ryou wasn't fighting the other man's hold on his arm, but he was looking stubborn and confused and like he was going to be no help at all. And Bakura – frankly, if the thought weren't so weird, Malik would say that he looked panicked.

"What?" he said.

"Yuugi, Kaiba, the whole group," Bakura snapped, even as he rushed past him and toward an adjacent room, Ryou in tow. "They're here. Where's Pegasus?"

Malik froze. The pharaoh, how...? He glanced at Ryou, wondering if he had betrayed them, and he couldn't resent it if he had, could he? And he was scared. He hadn't seen it first hand, but he knew: the pharaoh could do worse than kill you, destroy your very mind – and you only got one chance at redemption, didn't you?

"Upstairs, in his room," he answered Bakura's question; the thief cursed, and turned to him impatiently, and interrupted his "how" with:

"Well, what are you waiting for then? We need to get out of here."

Malik stared at him in confusion; from the next room, there was a direct stairway leading downstairs, and then a room leading the large garden beyond...

"The pharaoh is here and you want to run away?" he asked; that was – that was a brilliant solution, and not one he would have expected Bakura to come up with.

"Now," Bakura snapped, tugging at Ryou's arm as if for emphasis; Malik glanced from Ryou, who gave a small helpless smile and still made no motion to free himself, to Bakura who had a slightly crazed look in his eyes; he'd like being on the run, he really would.

"I'm coming," he declared.

Bakura turned away without another word, and rushed downwards; he'd let go of Ryou, but the latter followed, though he stopped briefly when they were outside – it wasn't very warm and rain hung in the air – and said quietly.

"Maybe you should stay – I'm sure Yuugi would forgive you."

"I'm not," Malik mumbled; maybe he was being unfair, but there was no time to think about it now, and if he made the wrong choice – well.

He would have asked Ryou why _he_ didn't stay, or try to, but there was no time for that either; Bakura was already running down the meadow, towards the large black gate in the distance. The garden was surrounded by large walls, a place for someone who liked their privacy, and Yuugi and the others must be coming from the main entrance.

The gate was dark and metallic and looked like a prison door, solid and forbidding; Bakura had reached it, and Malik watched with sinking dread when he pushed at it fruitlessly. They were not going to escape a confrontation.

"It's closed," he stated the obvious; Bakura gave it a vicious shove, to no effect; Ryou stood next to him, biting his lips nervously; Malik could hear voices in the distance.

"It's wasn't closed yesterday," Bakura said darkly. "Pegasus did something."

"We've been watching..."

"Obviously, we've not been watching him well enough or they wouldn't have found us!"

Malik said quietly:

"I think they're coming."

He grabbed his millennium rod from were it was hanging on a loop on his trousers, felt the comforting presence of its magic, and faced the house. Bakura, however, had leant with his back against the gate, and was not moving; the ring was still and lifeless on Ryou's chest.

"_Do_ something already!" Malik snapped at him.

There was a brief, dull sound, and Ryou collapsed into the thief's arms.

Malik turned round slowly, confronted to the rather weird sight of Bakura absently brushing his lips on the spot on the back of his ex-host's neck, where he had just knocked him out with a single hit. Neat trick. Malik made a prudent step backwards.

"That... wasn't quite what I had in mind."

Bakura rolled his eyes.

"I can't use the ring," he informed him negligently, as if this was a pretty secondary information, while picking up Ryou as carefully as possible.

"What do you mean you can't use the ring?" Malik sounded panicked to his own ears. "This isn't funny, _do_ something!"

"I assure you that if I could just send the pharaoh's cheerleaders to the shadow realms, I would gladly do it," the thief replied coldly.

"How's that possible? What happened?" He paused and motioned Ryou. "And why the hell did you do that to him?"

"I've _never_ been able to use the ring ever since the ritual. And I don't need him to find out."

Finally, a look of realisation spread over Malik's face. Now, _that_ would explain Bakura's sudden reconcilability.

"But you just tell _me_? I'm touched by your trust..."

"Shut up," Bakura snarled. "I'm just telling you because I have no qualms about killing _you_."

"I'm sure Ryou'd appreciate the preference," Malik answered laconically, not particularly worried; they had real and common enemies to worry about.

Bakura just snorted and hugged Ryou's limp body, which he was now carrying bridal style, closer to his chest. Malik paused for a moment to contemplate the picture.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "You freed Pegasus from the card. What if you _take_ the ring?"

"Don't you think I've _tried?_" Bakura snarled. "It was still there right after the ritual, the connection to the ring. But it's been fading, and now it's _gone_."

"Shit." Malik glared at the fence, and back at the house, and noted almost detachedly that four silhouettes had appeared in front of if, and were approaching. "So much for that. Isis is never going to let me leave the house again."

Bakura threw his head back to glare at him.

"How horrible. I'd feel sorry for _you_ if it's wasn't for the fact, they're going to _kill me_."

Malik looked at him in interest.

"You're actually scared?"

"No," the thief snapped. "I'm actually _trilled_ at the idea of having to face my most ancient enemy while being mortal again and having absolutely _no_ powers!" Malik blinked at him, several times. "Do you think I survived for so long because I'm _stupid_? Here, hold him, I'll try to break it open."

Malik thought about saying something about the relative intelligence of getting yourself stuck into a gold trinket for three millennia, and how it couldn't necessarily be called "surviving", but decided to save it for later, and wordlessly took Ryou from Bakura's arms. As the other boy was heavier than he looked, he slid down, his feet dangling in the air as Malik stopped him from falling completely by pressing him against his body with both arms; chances were he wouldn't feel all too well when he woke up, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

When the pharaoh came into clear view, Bakura gave up trying to break the gate open, and turned back towards the enemy grimly. Rishid was with them, which made Malik feel marginally better – he knew he could count on him, always. It was unfair, but he didn't feel as absolutely certain about Isis.

He instinctively began to murmur a brief prayer, before remembering that there was very little hope the gods would be listening to him rather than to the pharaoh.

The pharaoh, who was probably going to kill him. Or drive him insane in a way that might or might not actually be worse than death.

A while ago, during his other personality's duel against the pharaoh, he wouldn't have minded if he had been sacrificed; he would even have accepted it if the pharaoh had, instead of generously forgiving him for all he had done, chosen to punish him even after he had, with the help of Rishid, overcome his darkness and surrendered.

But now that he had pretty much taken advantage of this forgiveness, but discovered that life could actually be quite enjoyable, even without ruling the world or at least having a few mind-slaves at your disposal, he realised that he really didn't want to die.

He glanced at Bakura, who was again holding their only shield – Ryou's still unconscious body – against his chest, leaving him completely exposed. Typical.

Or maybe the pharaoh would challenge them to a shadow game. And then he'd win, because he had all three _fucking_ god cards, and Bakura was probably going to resurrect somehow, and he would be destroyed, and he couldn't even say goodbye to Ryou and Rishid –

Next to him, Bakura growled. He was prone to a lot of non-verbal sounds like this since he had gotten this body. Malik wondered if there was a connection, or if he just hadn't known the thief well enough before.

Then he noticed something: the small boy with the spiky, three coloured hair who was running towards them with the others was not the pharaoh.

"Yuugi." Bakura had noticed as well. "Why isn't _he_ here yet?"

He seemed nervous as well, which in any other situation might have made Malik feel a little smug, but now it only made things worse. He'd never seen the spirit being nervous before, and it was just his luck that the first time had to be when they were forced to remain allies.

Now that he thought of it, this whole thing really hadn't worked well the first time. What had he been thinking trying –

"Malik!"

Rishid's voice. A few instants later, they were here: Yuugi, still not the pharaoh, and Anzu and Honda; Kaiba, Jounouchi and Isis were nowhere to be seen.

"What happened to Bakura?" Anzu asked, still out of breath; Honda, without saying anything, made a threatening step forwards, eyes locked with Bakura's, who didn't move, and didn't speak.

Honda looked the most pissed; Anzu seemed more worried than anything else; Yuugi, to Malik's utter confusion, was smiling. Rishid was standing next to them, calmly, and that at least was a little bit reassuring – and Malik briskly felt much more afraid for Bakura than for himself.

"He's fine," he answered Anzu's question hastily. "He's just unconscious."

"Release him," Honda said, cold, threatening.

Bakura glared right back at him. Malik realised that this was utterly new to him, having to consider mere mortals a treat. He absently wondered who would win a fight between the two of them. Bakura was strong, but he hadn't got much training lately... At least they were not yet attacking each other.

"We didn't do anything to him," Bakura actually protested.

Malik raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. He did wonder if it would help if he said it had all been Bakura's doing, and at least when Ryou's current state was involved, he wouldn't be lying, but he decided it probably wouldn't work, and despite everything, chances were that Ryou himself wouldn't be too trilled to find out he had gotten the thief subjected to a punishment game while he was out cold. That, and he didn't particularly want Bakura to be rendered insane either.

"Er... Yuugi?" he began uncertainly, to create a diversion. It looked like they weren't about to pry Ryou from them and kill them just yet, and the pharaoh still wasn't present. "I guess... I should give this back to you..."

He made one step forward and held out the millennium rod to him, just like he had done for the pharaoh after Battle City, dagger turned against himself; it wasn't bared of its shelter, but the implication was still there.

Yuugi – still Yuugi, not his pharaoh – looked up at him. He was still actually _smiling_.

"Thank you," he said softly, and took the rod. No irony. Malik felt oddly small and stupid; he threw a quick glance at Rishid, then looked down; he didn't dare turn to check how Bakura took this surrender.

Yuugi then turned a slightly less friendly face to Bakura, but before he could say anything, Ryou suddenly began to move, so _à propos_ that Malik guessed that it couldn't be by chance.

"What..." Ryou opened his eyes, looked around, disoriented, for a moment; a large smile lit up his face when he became aware of the newcomers. "Yuugi!" He wriggled free of Bakura's loosened grip, and made a step in their direction. "Honda-kun. Anzu." He marked a brief, embarrassed pause; Malik wasn't sure if he didn't recognise Rishid, or if he just wasn't sure if it would be appropriate to greet him like his friends or not.

"Are you alright?" Honda asked, in a suspicious voice that implied that he probably _really_ wasn't, and stepped forward.

Malik's shame was briefly chased by annoyance – he _loved_ Ryou, he wouldn't ... – but he guessed he couldn't exactly blame the other boy: Ryou's previous encounter with the two of them had put him in a coma twice, and killed him once.

"I'm fine," Ryou assured him, but let Honda take his arm to support him anyway. He _did_ have a bit of a headache. From the corner of his eyes, Malik could see Bakura tense next to him. "What happened?"

"It's a long story," Yuugi said. "But Pegasus and the girl are both okay." He looked around at the others. "We should probably go back to the mansion."

Ryou was used to getting limited information about the adventures he was, sort of, taking part in, and was thus content with this for now; Malik, though completely confused by Yuugi's behaviour, was not about to overthrow the fragile balance they seemed to be working under.

"Oh..." Ryou said. "I think you should have this..."

He removed the cord of the ring, and held it out to Yuugi. Next to Malik, Bakura clenched and unclenched his fists, but made no move.

"It's yours," Yuugi answered. "If you want to keep –"

"The eye," Malik interrupted what could have become a long generosity contest; he had decided that since he had to betray someone anyway, he'd rather side with the good guys for once, if there was such a thing. Especially with Rishid here, looking wordlessly at him since they had arrived, and Bakura's best bet was probably to avoid a confrontation anyway. "The millennium eye," he added, looking at Bakura.

He had at least expected an angry glare, but after a fractional hesitation, the thief pulled out the object from his pocket.

Yuugi's eyes became even wider; Anzu put a hand in front of her mouth, as if to stop a scream. Only Rishid remained entirely motionless.

It was Honda who said it:

"You... ripped out his _eye_? He didn't mention _that_."

"He didn't do this _now_..." Ryou mumbled, like this made a major difference. Malik held back a snort at this implication that Bakura _wouldn't_ have scratched out Pegasus' eyes this time around.

"Give this to me."

At the assured, commanding tone, Malik thought – and he was sure that Bakura did too – that the pharaoh had finally arrived, and needed a moment to realise: this was _still_ Yuugi. Only looking a lot more serious and severe than usual.

Bakura crossed his arms over his chest, eye hidden in his fist.

"Duel me for it. A shadow game."

"No!" Ryou said.

Yuugi looked at Bakura searchingly.

"You can no longer start a shadow game on your own," he asserted slowly.

Bakura did not deny it; instead he said, his voice soft:

"You will need this." He held up the eye between two fingers.

"Then give it to me," said Yuugi, and after a brief glance at Ryou: "I am willing to forgive the past."

He _knew_, somehow, Malik realised. Knew that Ryou wouldn't want him gone. How on earth...?

"I don't seek your forgiveness," Bakura snarled, the softness gone from his tone; Honda, who was no longer steadying Ryou, made a protective step forwards, and Anzu followed suit.

"You said a minute ago that you weren't _stupid_," Malik hissed at the thief; he of all people must know how long a normal person could last in a shadow game; and for all he'd bitterly thought about Bakura's ability to come back from the death, he really didn't want to chance it.

"Yuugi, please..." Ryou said feebly. "I know what he's done, but..."

Yuugi nodded.

"We'll talk about it," he said, giving Bakura another long look, asserting. "We need to get back to the others. Will you come?"

Bakura gave a brief, curt nod.

* * *

(end of chapter 16)

_AN: __Uhm. Well. I hope Malik's reaction doesn't come completely out of nowhere._

_Next chapter shall come soon, and will most likely be the last one, though there's an epilogue too._

_As always, I love comments!_


	17. Chapter 17

_I'm so sorry for the terribly long delay__! I hope you people are still around. And thank you very, very much for the reviews! ilu! I've posted a longer reply to some of the reviews I got in my livejournal (to be found through the "homepage" link on my profile), in case anyone but the reviewer is interested in reading them.  
_

_See chapter one for disclaimer._

_Note: in the manga, Kaiba uses the BEWD he stole from Yuugi's grandfather in his duel against Yami, but it turns against him and destroys itself._

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

_(In which things get explained.)_

Kaiba turned towards the low table that was standing in the middle of the opulent room and froze. The card, the fifth Blue Eyes White dragon which should never have existed, had disappeared. A minute ago it had been there, now it was nowhere to be seen; a brief moment of cold fear was immediately replaced by fury: who had dared!...

He didn't have to search: between Isis, Jounouchi, Pegasus, and _her_, there was only one person in this room who would be both presumptuous and disrespectful enough of his bound with this one card to dare take it.

Pegasus' only eye was fixed on him, as if waiting for him to notice, and he was smiling. Between his right index and thumb, he was holding the card, in a way that was actually pretty normal, but looked deliberately taunting to Kaiba.

"Give this back," he ordered, low, threatening, and made a step forwards; he didn't even turn when the door opened behind them, and Yuugi and the others flooded in.

"I don't think you have any right to tell me what to do with this card, Kaiba-boy. Until I chose to release it to the public, this card rightfully belongs to me."

Kaiba clenched his hands to fists; Pegasus wasn't wrong, or he would have launched forward and grabbed the card by force already, but he wasn't right either: once a card was created, it belonged to no-one but the one who could use it best. It didn't truly exist until it was played in a duel.

He did turn, briefly, to the newcomers: he knew that Malik and Bakura might be a danger, but none of them seemed about the launch an attack; and if he were honest, he trusted the other Yuugi to be able to fight off whatever they might throw at him long enough for him to join in. Instead, Bakura – both of them – stayed by the door, and Malik came forward to be embraced into a tight hug by his sister, then stood still, started; he was staring at the girl, at Kisara, the soul of the dragons. Kaiba would have liked to deny the fact, but remembering the vision, seeing the way she moved, the blue of her eyes – he could not.

"She's awake," Malik said, still staring at Kisara, even as Jounouchi came forward and asked Bakura – the regular one – if he was all right. Kaiba ignored them.

"How dare you," he snarled at Pegasus. "You made a fake copy of the most powerful card in the game only to save your neck. How dare you say you still have any right on –"

"Ah, but it's not fake at all," Pegasus said cheerfully, ignoring everything else Kaiba had said; and before he could answer, he calmly walked over to where the girl was standing; he held out the card to her. "I think this belongs to you," he said friendlily.

Kisara hesitated for a short moment, then reached out with both hands to receive the present; briefly, her eyes flickered to Kaiba, before she looked back down at the card and closed her hands over it.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"It does belong to you," Isis agreed, speaking to the girl, but Kaiba knew it was really a warning for him.

He snorted. Yuugi was looking at him worriedly; Jounouchi looked as if he wanted to say something, but didn't quite know what; Isis contemplated at him with this annoyingly calm look in her eyes, as if she was figuring him inside out.

He had to get that card; he had to destroy it. He couldn't have another Blue Eyes White Dragon exist, one he couldn't control, one that would be played against him...

But this wasn't the same.

"You will need a deck," he told Kisara; she looked surprised for a moment, then she smiled and nodded; Kaiba heard Jounouchi murmur something derisive, but he ignored it.

Instead, he turned to Pegasus, who was still looking annoyingly happy.

"Did you install the chips that will make it recognisable to the duel discs, or is it just a painting?"

He tried to sound contemptuous, but didn't quite manage. This was a Blue Eyes White Dragon, after all, and Pegasus had been the one to bring it to life in his pictures first, whether he liked it or not.

"'Only' a painting' Kaiba-boy," Pegasus said. "They planned to use the chips from the stolen card of Soguroko Motou."

Kaiba shook his head. Ridiculous. They would probably only have succeeded in destroyed the card.

"I will do it," he said.

"Kisara will need no holograms to bring the dragon to life," Isis said, soft and severe, and laid a hand on Kisara's arm.

But the girl herself wasn't listening. Slowly, she withdrew herself from Isis' gentle embrace, and stepped forward to Kaiba, and simply handed him the card, eyes locked with his.

He snatched it away in a fluid movement, and clenched his fingered on it; he would own this card; he would win it or buy it from the girl, and then he would rip it into thousand pieces.

But not now. First, he'd make it whole; and once it was his, before he destroyed it, he would use it, once – and maybe, this one would not turn against him.

"What happened?" he asked, turning to Yuugi – the other, the one who was his rival and wasn't. "Did they surrender?"

"Yes," Malik said meekly, and threw a sharp glance at the new Bakura.

"No," aforementioned Bakura said, an edge to his voice. He was still standing by the door, arms crossed, the other Bakura by his side.

"I think, maybe we can sort this out," Yuugi said in spite of this; Bakura's lips curled into a sneer.

"I want to speak to _him_," he said, looking at Yuugi, tone so harsh that Jounouchi stepped next to Yuugi protectively; seeing this, Bakura smiled. "I won't attack him," he added softly. "I promise."

Yuugi looked down at his puzzle; Kaiba knew by now that his silence had to mean silent communication with the other Yuugi, his rival.

"Okay, wait a minute," Malik broke into the silence. "How is she awake? How did you find us?"

"He," Kaiba said, glaring at Pegasus as he spoke, "gave her a sedative."

Pegasus smiled mildly.

"It was perfectly harmless, and it was the only way to gain time. You –" He glanced at Malik, then at Bakura, and his smile vanished – "were waiting for her to awake to act."

"I wondered," the original Bakura murmured, and added, to Pegasus: "You said something to reassure me at once..."

Pegasus smiled again, looking self-satisfied; Kaiba remained silent; he didn't like what the man had done, he should have taken more direct action instead of stalling while waiting for their arrival, but maybe it had helped to keep Kisara safe, and that was what counted. She did not seem to hold it against him.

"And how –" Malik insisted, after a not fully friendly glance at Pegasus.

"He left us a message," Anzu explained. "Pegasus. We knew where you'd be."

"And Kaiba found a way to contact him," Honda added, and after a careful glance at Bakura, who was still fixedly looking at Yuugi and apparently ignoring everything else, added: "He had a receiver in his room."

"We _searched_ that room," Malik said, and winced at the unfriendly look he got from Honda and Jounouchi. "Sorry. Sorry, I'm surprised, that's all." Isis laid a hand on his arm.

"Not well enough," Pegasus said cheerfully.

"And," Jounouchi added, looking at the original Bakura uncomfortably, "he told us that you were... er... fine?"

Kaiba held back a snort. He'd heard what Pegasus had said about the three of them, and he didn't feel as understanding as Yuugi and his friends apparently did. If they had hurt Kisara... But as it was, what he was curious about was how his rival would react, so he said nothing that could drag out the explanation.

As if on cue, Yuugi raised his head; the look in his eyes was sharp, and even though Bakura was the one he was looking at, Kaiba recognised him immediately.

"You wanted to talk to me," he said to the thief, in his different, deeper voice.

* * *

Bakura winced; next to him, his former host tensed, and exchanged a worried glance with Malik, and Yuugi's friends imperceptibly drew closer around him, sensing the confrontation coming. He remained still: the fury he felt at standing in front of _him_ as he was, stripped of his power and the presence of the dark god, he must hide it, if he wished to survive.

"You think like him?" he asked, keeping his voice soft. "You are... 'willing to forgive the past'?"

"That depends," the pharaoh said coldly. "What were you trying to accomplish here?"

He nodded.

"I will tell you." He smiled thinly. "And I will give you the eye, _pharaoh_. Maybe we can sit down first?"

He didn't like the way they were facing him, a compact, united group. The pharaoh gave stiff nod, and after a long, sharp look from his one visible eye, Pegasus turned to lead the way to an adjacent room, were they sat down around a long dinning table, he and the pharaoh facing each other, like by a game board. Malik sat down at his right, Ryou to his left, while Pegasus took the head of the table, as if he were presiding the meeting. Kaiba remained standing, hovering somewhere behind the dragon girl's back.

"What I wanted," Bakura said when they'd all sat down, "was the Dragon's power. I have a card..." He reached for his deck; Honda rose to his feet, alarmed, and Bakura gave him a thin, bitter smile. "I have lost my power," he said, drawing out the card and laying it on the table, face up. "He is called Diabound. He is a thief's card: he can steal the power of every defeated foe." They all leant forward to look at it; Jounouchi actually picked it up.

"And then?" the pharaoh asked. "Would stealing her power have killed her?" He motioned at the dragon girl; Kaiba tensed behind her, and Bakura knew: if he said yes, here was someone who would not forgive so easily.

"The ritual _failed_," he snarled. "She was never supposed to appear – or I to regain this body." He calmed himself, and added, for Kaiba's benefit. "But I do not think so: a monster survives even when it is once destroyed in combat. I never meant to destroy the dragon for good."

Next to Yuugi, Jounouchi looked clearly uncomfortable as he put the card back down.

"You said you would give me the millennium eye," Yuugi said, then paused, and, turning to Pegasus, added: "If you are willing to..."

"It's yours," Pegasus said with an easy hand gesture, as if they weren't talking about something that had been ripped from his face.

Bakura drew it out from his pocket and laid it carefully on the table between them. There was hope yet, if not for him, then for the god.

"You will need it," he said. "And if you wish the regain your memories, you will have to fight a god. I will no longer by part of the battle, but _you_ will not escape it."

"I am ready to do what I have to," the pharaoh told him, though he looked startled; he held out a hand for the eye; Bakura handed it over. "Tell me what you know of that battle."

Bakura shrugged.

"Not much – I have lost my connection to the god. He was part of me, when I was... When I did not have this body. His presence has been fading gradually." He closed his eyes briefly. "It wasn't a pleasant feeling."

"Why?"

Bakura pressed his lips together, and said nothing. When he had seen all the people he had loved – all the people he had ever _known_ slaughtered, and his village destroyed, there had been nothing in him but a nameless void. Despair and horror, but both numb, far beyond pain. So he had let the dark god merge into him, and the newfound hatred and rage had kept him alive, and taken away everything else.

And now... the anger was still here, but clearly his own, not like an overbearing, foreign presence that could shield him from all the rest.

"He will try to kill you, within your and his memory," he added; he did not say that he would try to destroy everything and everyone else; he was not even sure anymore if that was what he wanted, with both Malik and Ryou by his side, when he had been certain that he would forever be alone. "You will have to face him. There is no way around this."

That wasn't quite true; the pharaoh could renounce to his memory, and to the battle; but he would not, in any case, and sooner or later, the god would find a way to freedom, he was certain.

"The ancient texts speak of an evil that was sealed away," Isis chimed in. Behind her, Bakura could see Kaiba shaking his head.

"We can defeat him," Jounouchi said confidently; on Yuugi's other side, Anzu nodded. Bakura pursed his lips contemptuously but said nothing.

"Does this satisfy you?" he asked instead.

The pharaoh nodded slowly.

"If you tell the truth, then I will not go into this battle wholly unprepared," he said. "That is worth something."

Bakura pressed his lips together into a thin line.

"I have your forgiveness then, pharaoh?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

If the pharaoh noticed any underlying sarcasm, he ignored it.

"For now," he said, "I will not act against you." (Next to him, Malik gave an audible sigh of relief.) "Unless," he added, and looked at his former host, "_you _want me to."

"What?" Ryou sat up straight; he'd been attentive but silent throughout all this. "No! I don't want, if you don't _have_ to – I think maybe Malik and I can, if we're there..." He trailed off. "I don't want him gone," he said. Bakura stared at him; he still felt the savage, protective kind of tenderness as he always had, except that now that this was no longer his body, there was no longer a logical reason for it.

The pharaoh nodded.

"You really can't control him anymore?" Honda asked him, the look in his eyes hard. "I remember, the ring came back to him once."

Bakura shook his head. He disliked talking about his new weakness.

"I had a part of my soul placed into Ryou's body. That way, I could control him, at least long enough to retrieve the ring, without him wearing it. The connection has been fading since... since I've been separated from the god." He paused. "The one to your puzzle too."

"You..." Ryou stopped. "I thought the connection between the two of us was just growing." He looked around unsurely. "I was fated to have the ring, after all."

Bakura found himself at the end of a long, accusing glare from three pairs of eyes.

"_I_ didn't come up with it." He tried to convince himself that he wasn't truly scared. He'd never been afraid of the pharaoh before, but he hadn't been mortal... "I just did my best to confirm him in his idea..."

But then, technically, he'd never truly been immortal, since there had been a way to _turn_ him mortal... It would take some time for him to get used to the idea that he, too, had been manipulated by the dark god.

"Yuugi would like to talk to you," was all the pharaoh added in answer, speaking to Ryou, who nodded.

* * *

Yuugi came to him, later, when he was sitting by the window, alone; Kaiba had vanished, gone almost as fast as he'd come, not wanting to rely on Pegasus' hospitality any longer than strictly necessary. Kisara had stayed, however, together with Isis, though it had been clear that these two would find each other soon again. Ryou was curious about her. Malik and Bakura were close by, Malik talking to the former spirit intently, Rishid hovering not far away, like a protective shadow. They were out of earshot, however.

"Are you alright?" Yuugi asked, sitting down next to him, looking out at the garden. "Pegasus said you were, but..."

"I'm fine." He looked down at his hands. Odd to think that he didn't stand to lose everything; he hadn't really been prepared for that. Unless, of course, the spirit choose to throw it all away again. "Thank you for not..." He made a vague gesture in Malik and Bakura's direction. "You know."

Yuugi shrugged.

"If you want it, it's worth a try. But – are you sure?"

"Yes," Ryou said simply.

"Just – you've been stuck with them for a long time, and maybe – maybe you should spend some time away from them. And see a counsellor. Rebecca's grandfather knows someone, who'd believe you when you tell them the truth, and – just to make sure, you know?"

Ryou nodded slowly. It wasn't so far-fetched, to imagine that something had gone awry in his mind from the spirit – from _both_ their presence. But for now, he knew that he didn't want what was left of it removed, and he was glad Yuugi didn't push the point.

"I will," he promised. Yuugi smiled at him and stood up.

"What did he want?" Malik asked, when he walked over towards them; Bakura was looking annoyed.

"I'll tell you later," Ryou promised, and slid an arm around Malik, who let his head rest on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I don't _know_ more about his battle," Bakura answered, a stubborn look on his face, half-glaring at Malik. "And about after, he'll find out soon enough." He paused, looked from Ryou to Malik, a little lost. "If he wins," he added.

"He's lying," Malik told Ryou, and smirked into Bakura's annoyed face. "We'll find out, you know."

Ryou nodded faintly; it sounded like a promise, and with Malik and Bakura next to him and his friends close by, he allowed himself, at least for a short moment, to believe in it.

* * *

_end if chapter 17_

AN: Why yes, my trilling conclusion is that... Ryou needs therapy. You know it's true. Well, that and the fact that Pegasus pwns everyone.

I feel kind of bad, because I didn't realise how phenomenally anticlimactic this was going to be when I planned it, the story ending with an explaining conversation instead of something more dramatic. Sorry about that. I also hope that it's not wholly unbelievable, from Bakura _or _Yami's side... Thoughts?

Diabound stealing other monster's attacks is anime-canon only, I think; getting the BEWD's attack is the reason why Bakura stages that duel against Kaiba at the beginning of the AE arc, and why he cuts it off as soon as Diabound has destroyed a BEWD. In this story, he simply choose a more complicated way to get the same results (and hey, kidnapping Mokuba can't be that easy either, high success level notwithstanding).

It never gets explained how Bakura gets the ring back in DK (or how he can posses Ryou in that church scene), so this is my explanation for it.

Epilogue shall be posted very soon. As always, I would love reviews!


	18. Epilogue

See chapter one for disclaimer.

I can't believe I had a large chunk of this written ahead of time and it still took me over a year to finish posting. But I'm finally there! \o/

* * *

Epilogue

It was a nice late-summer day only a few weeks later. Bakura's – well, Ryou's, but he couldn't get ride of the name officially – new apartment was remarkably in order and clean, considering the two psychotic people who where living in it since a while. Visibly, they were making an effort.

The past days had been so stormy one could barely leave the house, and most people in Domino had quickly taken advantage of the return of the nice whether, which was almost bound to be short, and flooded the streets and parks of the city. Bakura, however, was stretched out on the sofa across of the TV, lazily staring at the ceiling; a packet of chocolate cookies was on the table next to him, but he didn't deem eating them worth the effort of sitting up; as he heard the phone being put down in the next room, he dragged himself up a little, leaning against his elbow, and conceded to open his eyes.

Instants later, the door to the living room opened, revealing a worried looking Ryou. A worried looking Ryou still wearing pyjamas at a little after midday, which, in Bakura's opinion, looked rather appealing – if only because the lose fabric was particularly handy. A thief had to think ahead.

Ryou blinked at him, as if he had just only noticed he was there, which, under other circumstances, Bakura would have found insulting: after all, he was sprawled out on Ryou's sofa with no shirt on, and he could appreciate this a little more. But then, Ryou tended to have weird priorities, and didn't notice many things at all when he was upset, and he just had to accept that.

"Do you have any idea where Yuugi could be? I can't reach anyone at the game shop since two days."

"Hm?" Bakura sat up further and wondered, once again, how exactly Ryou's hair could look that soft and well-kept even when rather in disorder like now; it needed an hour of brushing every day to be as Ryou preferred it. "Oh, yes."

There was a sound of something heavy falling on the floor and shattering from the kitchen, followed by a couple of curses; Ryou and Bakura automatically glanced at the door, before turning their attention away from this trivial event again: Malik shattered things a lot. Bakura had a nagging suspicion he did this on purpose, now that his possessions weren't as rare and precious anymore, but in doubt, he'd give the tombkeeper some credit for once, and assume that he was just clumsy.

"_Yes?_" Ryou repeated, turning his eyes back on him, and still seemed oblivious to his state. "What...?"

"He's in Egypt."

Ryou stared.

"Why? How do you know?"

"To do that whole 'showing the god cards in front the old stone panel'-thing," the thief explained indifferently, as if he hadn't spent half an eternity trying to put his twist on that very event; "Unlock the pharaoh's memory, all that. He called a few days ago."

"He – what? Why didn't you tell me!"

"Oh, I didn't? Must have slipped my mind." Like he would have let Ryou go stand between the pharaoh and his foe!

"You..." Ryou could just stare at the thief's relaxed form in anger; his soft voice failed to sound the slightest bit threatening. "You know I wanted to come with them! I wanted to support Yuugi when he gets there! _Bakura_!"

The thief wasn't answering; he was new to this attempt at this, at being something other than a dark presence in his host's life, and he had found that the most effective method to deal with Ryou's rare moments of anger was to just let him yell: he wasn't very persistent, not when he was the only one slighted. Perhaps it was his own influence that had twisted something in his mind, which would be odd, considering he'd never quite managed, despite trying, to make thoughts of rebellion seem wholly fruitless or unappealing. The hint of disregard for his own well-being that seemed contained in it had always been infuriating, but it was difficult not to take advantage.

Thus, Bakura was trying very hard not to smirk, but Ryou caught the amused look in his eyes anyway. His shoulders sacked down.

"Why did you do this?" he asked in a defeated tone. "I wanted to be there for him. It was important to me..."

"Oh come on. He'll be just fine without you. And they'll all be back in a few days."

Ryou let himself fall on the sofa next to him; Bakura sat up further to leave him more room.

"Do you think so?" he asked.

"Of course. He'll win easily. If I was still part of the game, it'd be different, but –"

"Because of course, _you_ have managed to beat Yuugi Motou countless times."

Malik was standing in the doorway, a sandwich in one hand, a small kitchen broom in the other.

"Like _you_ ever did!" Bakura snapped back, as the tombkeeper walked over to them. "You managed to lose against your own personality disorder!"

"_You_ were holding the cards!"

"_You_ were the one who didn't even know how to properly use his own deck!"

"Well if you'd just listened to me when I –"

He glanced at Ryou and trailed off. Bakura smirked.

"...yes?"

"Fuck you." Malik sat down on the chair next to them. "What's wrong?" he asked, as Ryou passively dropped his head when Bakura leaned over him to place a kiss on his neck.

"Egypt," the thief answered between two kisses.

"Oh. I see."

Ryou's head snapped up.

"Of course, you knew as well," he said bitterly.

"Uhm – well. I was supposed to be there to fulfil my duty."

Ryou sighed and pushed Bakura away as the thief tried to continue his ministration.

"You'll never change."

"_Excuse_ me?" Bakura repeated, unbelieving. "I don't _change_?"

"Bakura..."

"Your previous self is hardly a reference," Malik remarked, taking a bite from his sandwich.

Bakura cast him a dirty glance.

"On whose side are you?"

"You're not seriously thinking I'd ever be on your side?" Malik asked, surprised.

"Stop it," Ryou asked softly. "Please."

They both looked at him, and, not knowing what to say, let the silence stretch out. Malik hesitantly ran a hand over Ryou's cheek; Ryou looked up.

"I'm worried they'll lose. I should be there to help them."

"They'll be fine," Bakura repeated immediately.

Malik nodded vigorously.

"Look I – I'm sorry. If you want, we can still fly to Egypt to see them, after the pharaoh comes back and it's all over."

"Yeah..." Bakura smiled happily. "Watch his little pet defeat him before he disappears to the afterlife."

"Bakura," Malik growled. "Shut up."

"Thanks, Malik," Ryou said in his soft voice, and straightened back up. "Can we..." He paused, added more resolutely. "_I'll_ go see them in any case."

He looked at his two lovers but didn't get much of a reaction: Malik was looking at the floor, and Bakura stared back at him bashfully, so he turned round and left the room; he would get dressed, and pack and take the next plane to Egypt – if he got a ticket, that was. It probably wouldn't be possible that fast – maybe they were already on their way home, and he would never find them without Malik's help anyway...

Back in the living room, Malik and Bakura spent about a whole minute simply looking at each other.

"So," Malik eventually said, waiting for Bakura to continue.

"You don't have to come," Bakura answered

Malik shook his head.

"No. I should have gone anyway." He paused. "If they lose, it won't make a difference where we are...?"

Bakura took a chocolate cookie.

"They won't. They've won."

"How can you..." He interrupted himself, realisation dawning on him. "The storms?"

"Mm-hm." Bakura nodded. "That must have been the worse of the fight, but it's over now. I hope we can still get tickets. He'll be so angry if he comes late..."

He trailed off. Angry wasn't necessarily the right word; Ryou wasn't much good at persistent anger – _he_ should know. But he'd be cold, distantly polite, and depressed.

Malik pushed himself up.

"I'll call Rishid. If he doesn't, Isis will find a way to get us there." He paused and turned back towards Bakura. "You're not planning anything, are you?"

"With the whole group there? Don't be stupid."

Malik stayed where he was, glaring at him.

"If you try anything, anything against Yuugi, I swear, Ryou and I won't lift a finger to help you," he warned, his voice stern. "And you're mortal enough for it to have consequences."

Bakura crossed his arms and glared back.

"I am not planning anything," he repeated.

"Good," Malik said, tone still stern.

They were distracted from this almost-argument by the return of Ryou, now dressed, to Bakura's secret disappointment; he looked at them questioningly, sensing that something was up; Malik came towards him, put an arm around his shoulder, and murmured into his ear:

"I know something you don't. Good news," he added, when, in spite of – or maybe because of – Malik's cheerful tone, Ryou seemed anything but hopeful and eager at the statement; Malik didn't think he could blame him for still having some doubts about the fullness of his redemption. The amazing thing was that he was here anyway; as he'd said to Bakura not long ago, he could leave them now; and Malik was determined not to make him regret that decision.

"What is it?" Ryou asked, leaning into Malik's touch, and turning a slightly dubious eye on Bakura, who glared at Malik.

"The world isn't going to be destroyed," Malik said, grinning amusedly at the thief now. "Bakura is understandably upset."

Ryou pursed his lips. He didn't think this was very funny – for all they knew, Bakura _was_ upset, and that didn't bode well for the future. And yet. Here they were, and it was better than anything he would have dared hope for.

"Are you sure?" he asked, hardly daring to believe. "Yuugi's won?"

"Of course I'm sure," Bakura answered, and stood up to come towards them. "You probably need to hurry if you want to be there in time."

Ryou nodded, absently joined his lips with Malik's, tasting, oddly but not quite unpleasant, of cheese and salad, and less absently leaned in when Bakura placed a kiss on his brow, before detangling himself from Malik's embrace.

"I'll pack too," Malik said, and raised his eyebrows at the thief, who shrugged; he still hardly owned anything of his own. "And I'll pack some clothes for you," he added, giving Bakura's bare chest a long look that he didn't manage to quite keep annoyed.

Bakura grinned at him; Ryou smiled and took his hand.

The End

* * *

_ANs:_

_I don't remember whether this also happens in the manga, but in the anime, during the fight in the ancient Egypt game, there are storms in the "real world", so that's what they're talking about here._

_So... yeah. This __was basically a story about how bad people get good things they didn't deserve and possibly didn't even want (bad people meaning Bakura mostly), but no-one said that it was going to be a very moral story. And their relationship is still kind of unhealthy, but... well._

_As always, I would love to hear from readers (last chance! XD )! I'm probably not going to make any major changes to this now that it's finished, so if you have constructive criticism, that would be welcome but probably just be kept in mind for future writings, unless it's something easily tweaked. _

_Many thanks to everyone who's followed/read this story!_


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